The Skywalker Prophecy: The Paths of Fate
by Darth-Lex
Summary: Third in AU OT trilogy with H-L, L-M, A-P, two OC Skywalker kids, a revived Sith menace, and more! Updated August 29
1. Prologue and Author's Note

**_AUTHOR'S NOTE: _**_The__ Skywalker Prophecy_ is an epic-scale story that encompasses AU versions of Episodes IV, V, and VI of the saga of Anakin Skywalker and his family.  As with _A Destiny Renewed_ and _Hope and Darkness_, the AU retellings of ANH and ESB (also posted at this site), some of the broad plots arcs in _The Paths of Fate_ will be familiar from ROTJ; others will be very different.  Like the movies, some characters play more pivotal roles at certain times, while others predominate in different sequences, and the story will contain considerable drama/angst and a good deal of romance/mush in addition to heavy doses of fun action sequences.  It is my sincere hope you will find this story as entertaining to read as it is for me to write.  

And so we conclude with _Episode VI: The Paths of Fate_.

Episode VI: The Paths of Fate

**PROLOGUE**

_One year after the Galactic Senate's Declaration of War, the conflict in the Mid Rim has not abated in intensity.  Although Republic forces have retaken the conquered planet of Gimna 3, numerous other captive star systems have not yet been liberated from the tyrannical despotism of King Argis IV of Vyhrrag.  Many times it has appeared that the Republic was on the verge of triumph, only to have another battle lost to the enemy.  The military impasse is exacerbated by relentless and unpredictable terrorist attacks against military and civilian targets throughout the Republic.  Sabotage and assassinations, piracy and devastating baradium bombs, commando raids and orbital bombardments have wreaked havoc in the Mid Rim, Expansion Regions, Inner Rim and Core, even in sectors on the opposite side of the galaxy from the territory controlled by the insurrectionist New Justice Movement.  _

_Within the Senate a firm majority of the delegates remains committed to full-scale war against Argis' Vyhrragian armadas and legions, and the dissenting members urging a peace treaty or truce continue to be outvoted by wide margins.  Yet the representatives cannot ignore the voices of their constituents, who despite the Republic's increasingly common victories grow more and more fearful of the enemy's power.  To preserve stability – and ensure their own reelection in their home systems – many Senators have demanded that regional and sector fleets remain in place to defend against the indiscriminate depredations, rather than being deployed to the front.  Without the advantage of their full arsenal and corresponding numerical superiority, however, the Republic's military commanders find themselves mired in a seemingly unending confrontation with a fanatical and nearly equally matched opponent.  _

_On the galactic capital city-planet of Coruscant, Supreme Chancellor Padmé Amidala faces a troubling choice.  At a top-secret briefing only one week ago military advisors presented a bold battle plan devised by several of the Republic's most creative tacticians, including the acclaimed Mon Calamari Admiral Ackbar and the Chancellor's own son, Colonel Bryon Skywalker.  If successful the strategy would without question induce a complete and unconditional enemy surrender.  But the plan also carries great risk, and should it fail the political – and personal – cost to the Supreme Chancellor would be incalculable.  With only a small circle of her closest and most trusted friends to assist, she ponders a decision that could alter the future of the galaxy forever._

_Unseen but not forgotten and safely ensconced behind enemy lines, the diabolical Sith Lords are poised to unleash an offensive of their own, their goal nothing less than the slaying not only of the Jedi champion Anakin Skywalker but also his entire bloodline.  Yet even with a final showdown looming, a group of young heroes first carries out a deeply personal – but perhaps no less important – mission._  

---

Jedi Master Anakin Skywalker leaned back in the comfortable plush chair and ran his fingers through his short gray hair.  Crossing his arms over the front of his plain white nightshirt, he gazed across the cozy room at his wife.  Her long hair trailed to the small of her back and her slim yellow nightgown flattered her petite figure.  After over a quarter century of marriage the sight of her still took his breath away.  

Padmé turned to face him, revealing the tiny bundle of blankets nestled lovingly against her chest.  "He's asleep," she whispered to him across the quiet space of the nursery.  "Finally."

Anakin nodded.  Their infant grandson, Nyklas Skywalker, was nearly five months old now.  Like his father Bryon had been two decades ago, the baby was notoriously difficult to quiet for the night.  Even worse, Nyklas's already burgeoning sensitivity to the Force nullified many of the subtle tricks Anakin had used on Bryon.  Instead he and Padmé and the boy's parents were stuck with old-fashioned methods like singing and pacing.  Fortunately for Nyklas his grandmother had infinite patience for her first grandchild.  

After she finished tucking the infant snugly into the basinet, Padmé tiptoed over to Anakin and cuddled herself comfortably into his lap.  She rested her head on his shoulder and smiled tenderly.  "You're worried about them."

"I am."  Anakin wrapped one arm around her waist and ran the fingers of his other hand through her hair.  The burdens of the office of Supreme Chancellor were wearing on her greatly, and it seemed that every week he noticed more strands of gray in her still mostly brown tresses. 

"Everything will go smoothly," she said.  "I promise."

"At least they're Knights," he agreed with a sigh.  Nearly two months ago the Jedi Council finally had approved their son Luke and Anakin's apprentice, Mara Jade, to stand for the Trials.  Both had succeeded, and since then they had been away from the Temple on a clandestine mission to which the Council – with Anakin's grudging acquiescence – had given its approval.  "I do wish they'd check in more often, though.  It would make me feel better."

"It's a little late to instill that in them, Ani," she laughed.  "It's your own fault they're so much like you." 

He laughed too.  "The Force is quite fond of that kind of irony, I've found.  Completing the circle.  Finding balance.  And visiting the torment of the youthful apprentice back upon the Master.  I suppose I deserve this for all the suffering I inflicted on Obi-Wan over the years." 

Padmé squeezed him tightly at the mention of their slain friend.  "I have no doubt he is reveling in your misfortune," she said.  "He always did enjoy a laugh at your expense."

"Very true," Anakin nodded.  "At least Danaé is as reliable as ever.  She filed her report today, right on schedule.  Her investigation is proceeding rapidly; we're expecting word from her at any time."  Promoted to Jedi Knight a year ago after the fall of Gimna 3 to the Vyhrragians, their younger daughter was on an undercover solo mission tracking down rumors of an enemy weapons program.  

"That's my baby girl," Padmé smiled.  "Now if we could just get her to lighten up a little."

"All in due time, angel," he said.  "She'll find the right balance within herself soon.  I have confidence in her."

"I do too," she said, kissing him lightly on the side of his neck.  "Have you heard any word from…"

At just that moment the door to the nursery slid upward and Nyklas's mother stepped inside.  The short young woman wore a plush burgundy bathrobe and was rubbing a truly gargantuan towel with both hands through her long locks of luscious blonde hair.  Gingerly she walked across the room to stand next to them. 

"I was in there for _two hours_," Sarré Bellion Skywalker exclaimed in hushed tones.  "Why didn't you get me?" 

"We don't mind," Padmé insisted quietly.  "I know how refreshing time by yourself can be at this stage.  It's fine.  Really.  I promise." 

Sarré grinned broadly.  "I'll admit it was pretty nice.  Thank you."

Anakin smiled.  "You're welcome."

"I can see why having Jenny around was so great for you when all of us were young," Sarré said thoughtfully.  Then she plopped down on the armrest and slapped the towel around her shoulders.  "I talked to Bryon.  The offensive is going very well.  Tomorrow they expect to make landfall on Xixus and retake the planet."

"That's great news," Padmé beamed.  Their youngest child, still not yet twenty-one years old, was a colonel in the Republic Army Special Forces and one of the top commanders at the front.  "Each additional victory we can extol on the Holonet makes a difference.  And that system has important strategic value as well.  This is great."

"It is," Anakin said distractedly.  As much as he tried, he couldn't get used to the fact that Sarré conducted all manner of personal correspondence from the bath.  It was just… bizarre.  But lately she usually brought word from Bryon, who never seemed to contact Padmé or him directly, so he did his best to focus on the updates and not the manner in which they were acquired.  

"I also reached Leia, actually," Sarré said.  "I needed to clear a few matters by her for the Senate, and for once I was able to get a stable connection."  During Leia's absence from Coruscant for the past month, Sarré had served as Acting Senator from Naboo in her place.  It was first time the handmaiden had taken on that authority, and she seemed to be enjoying it immensely.  

"Really?  That's wonderful," Padmé said, sitting forward expectantly.  "And?"

"A few more days at most," Sarré told them.  "Everything is in place.  It won't be long now."

"That's good.  For once, though," Anakin chuckled, "I can't accuse them of being impatient."

"Very true," Padmé chuckled too.  "There may be hope for them yet."

Sarré laughed lightly and rose to her feet.  "I'll let you know as soon as I hear anything.  Thanks again for watching Nyklas for me."

"It was my pleasure, really," Padmé said.  

"I'm going to bed," Sarré nodded.  "You should too." 

"I'll just make sure he's really down and out," Padmé winked.  "But you go on.  Please." 

Sarré bent down and kissed Padmé on the cheek, then paced over to the basinet.  After a long moment gazing at her son, she smiled back at them and left the room.  

"See?  I told you everything was going smoothly," Padmé teased as she cuddled into Anakin even more.  

"I know," he said, kissing the top of her head.  After his moment of weakness during the fall of Gimna 3, when he had failed to maintain his Jedi serenity and had used the dark side of the Force to kill, he willingly had given up an active role in the war effort to focus on his duties on the Jedi Council and on providing all the support, encouragement, and love he could to Padmé while she served as Supreme Chancellor.  Since that day he had worked tirelessly to mend his soul, earn Padmé's trust again, and rebuild his shattered bond with his apprentice.  In the first two tasks he had succeeded; Mara's healing was not yet complete.  And there remained times, like now, when his innate impulse to take action – to help his children succeed – still simmered in his spirit.  

They sat silently in the chair for a few more minutes before Padmé rose from his lap, pulled him to his feet by his hands, and led him from the nursery.  

---

As she sat down in the pilot's seat of the starship the brown-eyed woman in a tight-fitting black flight suit brushed her long, straight black hair off her shoulders with the fingers of her black-gloved hands.  Settling into the customized, high-backed chair, she tapped a few buttons on the semicircular console with her right hand before shifting the hyperdrive lever with her left.  Outside the wide viewport the bright streaks of lightspeed condensed into the multitude of tiny dots of light comprising the stunningly beautiful array of realspace.  With a quick check of the navicomputer at her right elbow she cut the sublight engines to minimum and turned to her left.  

Activating the cockpit's communications panel, she entered the first coordinates to be scanned.  After only a moment the galactic map on the display screen spun and then zoomed in on a single star system.  The confirmation beep sounded when the encoded message from Coruscant was identified.  

_The hawk has roosted.  _

_Lightning strikes at storm's end._

The woman smiled and tapped in a second set of coordinates.  The map image zoomed out, whirled, and zoomed in again.  A message from Gimna 3 also was waiting for her. 

_The scorpion walks the sands.  _

_A journey of seven days._

With a pleased nod she entered coordinates a third time.  The map shifted far less distance across the galactic plane before ending at a point in space near the Xixus system.  The panel was silent for several heartbeats until the beep sounded and the screen identified the encrypted message's source as the Vyhrragian destroyer _Guillotine_.  

_The chimney falls. _

_The smoke remains._

This was all excellent news.  The woman deactivated the communications panel and turned to face out the viewport at the stars again.  Leaning back in her seat, she crossed her arms over her chest and closed her eyes.  Today had been a good day, she decided with a smirk.  A very satisfying fortieth birthday indeed. 

She opened herself to the Force and let its energy flow through her.  In its currents she perceived all the elements of her final design in their places and the myriad of contingencies anticipated and resolved.  As always there were ripples and eddies in the Force, subtle shifts and untraceable whispers that confounded all prediction.  But that was the brilliance of her scheme – events did not have to go according to plan to ensure victory.  She expected the unexpected – foresaw the unforeseeable.  The likely course of events would bring about her final triumph with pathetic ease.  Unlikely courses only increased her burden; they could not block her path.  

For in all her meditations she had seen time and again that no matter what took place in the coming days, her ultimate defeat of the Chosen One remained constant.  It was a foregone conclusion.  

It was inevitable.  

She opened her eyes again and sat forward.  The console indicators revealed a starship primed and ready for its next jump to hyperspace.  She leaned to her right and confirmed her destination, then gripped the two-handed control stick and swung the nose of the vessel around to the proper direction – toward the Core.  

She smiled as she pulled down the lightspeed lever and watched the countless stars lengthen into streaks again.  In a matter of days everything would be decided once and for all, and she would be the victor.  She had waited a quarter century for this moment, and now it was finally here. 

Darth Vengous caught the reflection of her own wicked grin in the viewport of the _Ebony Fang_ – and laughed.


	2. Chapter One

**CHAPTER ONE**

Padmé Naberrie Skywalker stood at the wide window behind the desk in the Supreme Chancellor's ceremonial office, gazing at the orange hues of sunset shining off the skyline in the distance.  "We have two choices," she said to the others standing across the desk.  "I can present the request for authorization of fleet redeployments directly to the Senate, or I can convene a meeting of the caucus chairs and seek to get their support first."

They stayed quiet, waiting patiently.  

"I need to make a decision tonight," Padmé said.  She glanced up as she began to pace along the window.  "Sabé?"

"According to our latest analysis of the numbers, the chances of passage in the Senate are very low," her oldest and dearest friend replied.  "Every vote the caucus chairs can get us will help."

"I agree," Rabé said.  "Our only chance is with the caucus chairs on our side."

Dormé nodded.  "Caucus chairs."

Saché nodded too.  "Caucus chairs."

Padmé spun on her heel when she reached the wall and paced back in the other direction.  Unanimity among her four friends – retired royal handmaidens turned Chancellor's advisors – was about as frequent as snow on Tatooine.  "Jenny?"

"That's right," Chief of Staff Antilles said.  After Anakin and Padmé had purchased Jenny's freedom from slavery two decades ago, she had been nanny to the Skywalker children and a devoted secretary before Padmé's return to politics – and she now ran Supreme Chancellor Amidala's office with the kind of precision and unquestioned authority a general would envy.  Not to mention Jenny's impeccable judgment for all things political.  "Going to the caucus chairs can only help, and it can't hurt."

"I think so too," Sarré said.  "But there's no point."

Padmé raised her eyebrows.  "Why not?"

"It's only a matter of time," Sarré sighed, "before you have to take the war out of the Senate's hands.  Even if you get the redeployments passed, it'll be close.  And maybe the next vote will be close.  But sooner or later we're going to start losing them.  And when that happens you'll regret you didn't act now."

"You mean Victory Strike," Sabé said. 

"I mean Victory Strike," Sarré confirmed.  

"But we can't take that to the Senate," Dormé said.  "It would compromise the secrecy that's key to its success."

Sarré's lavender eyes drilled into Padmé's gaze.  "Who said anything about taking it to the Senate?"

"There's only one way to implement Victory Strike," Padmé nodded.  She stopped her pacing and turned to look out the window again.  She faced the direction of the Jedi Temple, even though she couldn't see it beyond the towering skyscrapers.  

Victory Strike.  The military's secret plan to win the war in a single bold stroke.  From numerous rendezvous points across the Republic small strike forces would make hyperspace jumps to the edge of enemy-held territory, then straight to Argis' capital planet of Vyhrrag – uniting to form a massive invasion fleet.  Although the tyrant's brutal dictatorship had many advantages in efficiency over the Republic, it had one fatal weakness – the concentration of all of the Vyhrragian's top decision-makers and critical command-and-control infrastructure on a single world.  By attacking and conquering the enemy capital, the Republic would decapitate the enemy regime and end the war.  

If the plan worked, it would be a complete triumph.  If the plan failed, the losses in personnel and warships would be devastating and the war effort would be set back months, if not years.  Barely more than a dozen people in the galaxy knew of the plan's existence: the seven people in her office, Anakin, and the small number of top military officers who had created it.  

Bryon said it would work.  That was all Padmé needed to know.  

"But even if that's true," Padmé finally said, turning to face the others again, "it has to be a last resort.  We'd defeat Argis quickly once we implemented the fleet redeployments – I know we would.  And if I can win the war by consulting with the Senate to the maximum extent possible, and receiving Senate authorization to the maximum extent possible, then we have to follow that course.  If we don't, I'm just an autocrat too.  We have to try to do this the right way – with the Senate."

"We understand, Padmé," said Sabé, casting a quick glance at Sarré, who nodded decisively.  

"Here's what we should do," Rabé said.  "Let's prepare a briefing for the caucus chairs on the need for fleet redeployments.  We'll call them in and explain the necessity of the authorizations."

"If we get consensus from them," Saché continued, following her friend's reasoning perfectly, "then we take it to the Senate with momentum on our side.  If we win, you have the consultation and approval you want."

"And if we lose," Dormé said, "we're no worse off than now.  Under the Declaration of War you could order the redeployments without legislative action anyway.  At least this way you can say you tried to keep the Senate involved as long as possible."

"Tomorrow afternoon," Jenny said, looking up from her datapad.  "We can call the meeting for tomorrow afternoon."

"Make it happen," Padmé nodded.  "I'll give it my best shot.  I have to."

"Let's get to work, ladies," Sabé said, motioning the others toward the door to the adjoining office suite for the Chancellor's top aides.  "We have a brilliant briefing to write."

Padmé met Sarré's gaze again.  "And if it doesn't work," Supreme Chancellor Amidala said softly, "then we talk about ordering Victory Strike."

---

Darth Regelous stood at the window of the ceremonial office of his alter ego, King Argis IV of Vyhrrag, and gazed out over the grounds of the royal palace.  After almost seven years on the throne, he was pleased his Master's triumph was now only a matter of days away.  Then he finally would have his rightful dominion – the galaxy. 

Behind him the thick wooden door to the office creaked open on its hinges, and the sound of a single pair of footsteps approached.  Regelous waited until the shorter man reached his side.  "News of the war, General?"

Tarkin gazed out the window too.  "We continue to hold the Republic at bay with relative ease," the thin, elderly tactician said.  "The demands of the Senators have prevented the marshalling of a significant fleet against us."

"And now it is too late," Regelous smiled, his eyes never leaving the view outside.  

"Indeed it is," Tarkin nodded.  "In the time it would take the Republic to amass an armada capable of smashing ours, your Master's plan will have been executed.  The Skywalkers will be dead, the Chancellor assassinated, the Senate in disarray, and the citizens of the Republic inflamed to uncontrollable panic.  The Republic will be torn asunder by unrest and civil war, and all possibility of a unified attack against us will be gone."

"Their military will be unable to maintain order, much less fight us," Regelous agreed.  "Soon we will be able to strike at Coruscant itself, destroy the Senate, and wipe out the Jedi once and for all."

"With Coruscant captured, the Republic will be lost.  Countless worlds will surrender to you simply to obtain our protection from the deadly anarchy, and the rest will fall in due course."  Tarkin reached up and patted Regelous on the shoulder.  "The galaxy is ours, my friend.  We are unstoppable."

Regelous looked down at his aging ally.  "We could not have succeeded so quickly and so easily without you, General.  Your role in our glorious victory will always be remembered." 

"When Lord Sidious died, I thought this day was lost forever," Tarkin admitted wistfully.  "To have lived to see it come to pass – that has made each day of my imprisonment worthwhile.  And for this, I will always be indebted to you and your Master." 

"A debt you will have paid in full when we stand together on Coruscant," Regelous grinned wickedly.  "Not long now, my friend.  Not long at all."

---

The young human woman swayed and twirled in a sultry dance to the melody of the sensual tune being played by the small band of alien musicians.  Her skimpy attire revealed nearly all of her stunning physique, from the toned muscles of her arms and legs to her svelte abdomen and curvaceous hips.  The black hair that hung just past her shoulders flew out around her head as she spun, mirroring the diaphanous fabric of her scarf and skirt. 

The grace and ease of her movements enchanted the dozens of individuals who watched her from the dark shadows along three edges of the brightly lit center of the stone floor.  Bounty hunters and hired goons, mercenaries and thugs, smugglers and gangsters – it was the most unsavory crowd imaginable in the galaxy.  

Yet she had no choice but to dance, for along the fourth wall was the stone dais upon which sat the massive slug-like hulk that was Jabba the Hutt.  A top principal in the Hutt Criminal Syndicate, Jabba controlled not only the Tatoo system but also all the nearby sectors.  And his domain of influence extended far beyond that.  

To refuse Jabba's "request" to dance was to incur a death sentence – one that would be carried out without delay.  

So she danced.  

The tune ended and the dancer prostrated herself before Jabba's dais, her hands splayed to the sides and her forehead only a centimeter above the grimy floor.  

Jabba bellowed in Huttese.  "The mighty Jabba," translated his shiny silver protocol droid, "applauds the luscious Arica for her prowess."

The dancer did not move.  

Jabba slapped a thick, slimy arm against his side and chortled.  "You have performed enough for one day," the droid continued.  "Your work is done, lovely Arica."  

She rose to her feet and bowed deeply to the Hutt.  Then she strode swiftly into the crowd and headed toward the bar along the far wall.  

The ruffians gave her a wide berth.  When she first had arrived here almost two months ago, several of Jabba's thugs had mistaken Arica for yet another slave to be ogled and groped – and worse – like all the rest.  Then one day a man twice her size had grabbed her after a performance – and in a single swift move she had tossed him to the ground, broken his arm, and pinned him in a deadly chokehold until Jabba had ordered her to spare him.  The action had only curried her more favor with the Hutt, and since that day she had been his favorite dancer.  

None of the men dared lay a hand on Arica.  

Even before she arrived at the counter the bartender had her standard glass of Corellian whiskey ready for her.  She chugged the entire tumbler in a single long drink.  The fiery sting of the liquor burned her throat and brought tears to her eyes.  Arica wiped her eyes and lips with the back of her hand and stalked away to stand alone in a dark corner.  Once again the hooligans scurried from her path.  

Bracing her back into the corner so her eyes could monitor the entire gloomy, deadly room, Mara Jade crossed her arms over her chest and took a deep breath.  

She couldn't take this much longer.  

She felt dirty.  Filthy.  Disgusting.  

Dehumanized.  

She wasn't even a woman to them.  She was a body.  A vessel.  An object of animal lust. 

The only reason they left her alone was because they were afraid of her. 

It wasn't respect or admiration.  It was raw, primal fear.  She could sense it plainly in the Force. 

She had never imagined it possible to feel so degraded.  

So worthless. 

So despicable.  

To feel such self-loathing.  

Mara shook her head rapidly and blinked away the lingering tingles of the whiskey.  She was a Jedi Knight now, and she had a duty to fulfill.  A duty she had accepted willingly, with full knowledge of what her undercover mission would require.  She was better than these emotions.  

She had to be.  

A year ago she had promised Leia that she would help her rescue Captain Solo.  Only days after Mara's Knighting, when the confirmation had arrived that Han was being held prisoner at Jabba's palace on Tatooine, she had not hesitated to keep her pledge to her dear friend.  In the first stage of the rescue plan she had infiltrated Jabba's retinue by posing as the dancer Arica.  At the same time Han's loyal friend Lando Calrissian, a highly skilled member of the Navy's Special Operations Division, had insinuated himself among Jabba's minions in the guise of a talented mercenary.  Mara's task was to use her Jedi skills to keep tabs on the entire collection of criminals and goons in the palace at all times, so that when the final stages of the plan were carried out they would know precisely the opposition they faced.  Lando secretly ensured Han's continued safety and used the wider access his position granted him to remain in contact with the others on the outside.  

When she last had spoken to him yesterday, Lando had assured her that the plan was going to be implemented soon.  Maybe as early as tomorrow.  

Mara hoped so.  

She needed to get out of this place, and badly.  She couldn't stand being dressed this way.  She couldn't stand the way she felt when her awareness told her dozens of pairs of eyes were casting their lascivious gaze upon her.  She couldn't take much longer the grim, self-destructive emotions her performances brought out in her.  

And she missed Luke.  

She hadn't seen him in almost two months – not since she'd left their base camp for the palace.  For the last year she had honored his request that they make attaining their Knighthoods their top priority, even though that meant they did not confront the strength or meaning of their feelings for each other.  

Not that they really had avoided one another, though.  They had trained together constantly, not only in sparring and piloting and Force techniques but also in meditation and patience and gaining knowledge of all kinds.  They had eaten meals together, repaired and customized their X-Wings together, and even had assisted the Masters in training the younglings together.  They both had been dispatched on solo missions too, of course, but most of the time they had been at each other's sides.  And as the weeks had passed by they even had spent occasional nights together – always at the Skywalker residence, never at the Temple.  As far as the Jedi Order was concerned, they were close friends and nothing more. 

The one thing they had not done was discuss their bond.  Their attachment.  Their love.  

Mara needed this mission to be over, and she needed it to be over now.  Because when it was, she and Luke were going to talk.  Really talk.  He would keep his word to her.  She knew he would.  He had to. 

She smirked to herself.  He wasn't going to like the consequences if he didn't.

---****

Arica stood in the deep shadows of her corner of Jabba's throne room and watched with trepidation the scene unfolding in front of her.  In the brightly lit center of the crowded room the young female Twi'lek named Oola was performing a vigorous, athletic dance for the Hutt and the dozens of assembled gangsters, mercenaries, and thugs.  Hoots and jeers and taunts assaulted the girl from all sides.  The audience was not satisfied by the insufficiently seductive and lurid nature of the dance.  

Oola continued with the dance, but her pace was slowing and her movements were becoming less smooth.  She nearly stumbled and fell, but she pressed onward.  And the catcalls only got worse. 

Mara could sense the problem clearly enough in the Force.  Oola was exhausted.  She had been forced to dance for too long, and now her body was failing her.  The girl's muscles ached.  Her breathing was ragged.  She was on the verge of collapse. 

But Oola was also afraid – afraid to displease Jabba and his minions.  The pure terror radiating from the girl in the Force was so powerful, so intense, that it made Mara sick to her stomach.  Oola was deathly afraid of what would happen if she stopped dancing, and so she somehow kept going.  

It took all the willpower Mara could muster not to intervene.  Jabba and the gathered criminals were inflicting incredible agony upon this defenseless girl.  They were tormenting Oola to death, one way or another.  It was unconscionable.  It was one of the vilest things Mara could imagine.  

It was evil.  

And Mara was a Jedi Knight.  What point was there to serve the Republic, and the Force, and justice, if not to put a stop to inhumanely cruel actions of this kind?  How could she stand idly by and watch this violation of basic dignity continue?  How could she stand here in the corner and do nothing?  

Mara closed her eyes and took a deep breath.  She knew the answers to her silent questions, as much as she didn't want to accept them.  

She could do nothing because it was her duty to do nothing.  She was here in Jabba's palace for a reason – to rescue Captain Solo.  That was the mission the Jedi Council had approved.  To deviate from that mission risked unknowable problems.  She had no lightsaber here – not yet – and her powers with the Force would only do so much.  Any intervention on Oola's behalf would compromise the mission and put her own life in danger, as well as Lando's and Han's.  She couldn't know what would happen if she allowed her impulse for taking action to override her obligation to her responsibilities.  

What Mara did know for certain was that the last time she had been on Tatooine she and Luke had disobeyed their orders from their Masters – and their friends Ralli and Gars had died because of it.  Mara was not about to make the same mistake again, especially not on Tatooine.  

Keeping her eyes closed, Mara reminded herself of the teachings in the Temple.  A Jedi's duty was to the Force, in service to the Republic and the Senate, and sometimes that did indeed require the pursuit of justice.  But the Jedi were too few to right every wrong in the galaxy.  And even if they could, it was not their responsibility to do so.  To assume the role of self-declared guardians of justice in all times and places was to put on the mantle of arrogance and pride that inevitably would lead down the dark path of domination and supremacy.  Seeking to vindicate every injustice was an impossible task – and Mara had no choice but to concede that grim truth.  

Involuntarily she remembered the story of Qui-Gon Jinn's arrival on Tatooine over three decades ago.  In the course of attempting to acquire a new hyperdrive for Queen Amidala's starship, the Jedi Master had encountered a young slave boy who was immensely powerful in the Force.  Yet when that boy's mother had asked Qui-Gon whether he could help her son, he had given the only reply he could – that he had not come to Tatooine to free slaves.  Although the boy ultimately had won his own freedom in a Podrace, his mother had been left behind in slavery.  And to this day slavery persisted in large sectors of the Outer Rim where the Republic simply lacked the resources to enforce its laws.  In freeing even the boy Master Jinn had pushed the very limits of his mandate to protect Queen Amidala, and he had not pressed beyond that to free the boy's mother – much less all the slaves on Tatooine. 

Mara sighed.  The lesson of her own Master's discovery by the Jedi Order was a sobering one for her in this moment, as she sensed in the Force the piercing sting of Oola's pain.  As much as she wanted to help Oola, to do something – anything – to prevent the girl's suffering, she simply could not do so.  This was one of those occasions when a Jedi's compassion could be her undoing – if her empathy led her to derogate from her duties.  

And that Mara could not do.  

Even a year later she still remembered all too clearly the horrible day on Gimna 3, when at her side her Master had lost control of his emotional serenity and had given in to his desperation and rage.  His fear for his children had overwhelmed him, and he willfully had reached out to the dark side of the Force and had used its power to slay the enemy soldiers charging them.  And in the battle meld they had formed in the Force she had experienced all of his abominable emotions, and it had torn her spirit apart.  

Sometimes being a Jedi meant doing nothing, even in the face of terrible pain. 

It had taken her weeks to be able to speak to him, and more weeks still to be able to look him in the eyes.  For months she had been unable to see his action on Gimna 3 as anything other than a complete and total betrayal of their bond as Master and Padawan.  Slowly she had come to understand that to expect perfection of him – of anyone – was unreasonable, and gradually she had found her confidence and trust in him again.  He was her Master.  He was the only father she had ever known.  

She had forgiven him for his failure.  

And yet their bond, which once had been the good and true foundation of her own emotional peace as a Jedi, had never fully recovered from that fateful day.  Confidence and trust and forgiveness were not enough to heal the wound that still bled inside her soul.  Her Master had been the one person in the galaxy she had thought she could always believe in – and she had learned it was a lie.  Since Gimna 3 she constantly had felt a profound and incurable loneliness about her place in the universe.  She was alone and always would be.  

There was no one in the galaxy she could believe in unconditionally.  Not a single soul.  

That was the greatest loss her Master's betrayal had caused, and it was a loss from which she would never recover.  And it was that loss that made Oola's pain so sharp and bright in Mara's mind.  Because now, standing here in the dark corner of Jabba's palace, Mara sensed that the girl's suffering was the same as her own.  

Oola had no one.  Oola was all alone in the galaxy.  Oola was frightened and in pain, and no one cared.  

One person cared.  Mara cared.  But she could do nothing – so what good did her caring do Oola?  Mara opened her eyes and watched Oola finally conclude the dance.  The cheers and applause were loud and boisterous, but the undercurrent of derision and disappointment was unmistakable.  

Jabba rumbled something in Huttese to the Twi'lek girl.  Oola shook her head and whimpered.  

The Hutt motioned to an open space on the dais next to his slimy, corpulent mass and shouted again in the alien tongue.  Oola extended her hands plaintively, cried out in denial, and took a step backward.  

Mara couldn't understand the words, but their meaning was clear enough.  Oola could dance no more, and she didn't want to sit with Jabba.  Mara couldn't blame the girl, of course, having endured far more time on the dais herself than she cared to contemplate.  But she also knew objecting was unwise in the extreme.  

Jabba roared again, and Oola refused again, and Jabba slammed his hand down on the armrest of the dais.  

A trapdoor opened beneath Oola's feet and sent her plummeting straight down into the floor.  

Jabba's dais began to roll forward, and tiles in the stone floor slid away to reveal a grating and the view beneath – a wide, deep pit.  On the dirt floor of the pit many meters below Oola was screaming and crying frantically, begging and pleading for her life to be spared.  

As the crowd gathered around the edges of the grating to watch the gruesome spectacle about to take place below, Mara stayed where she was in the corner.  She couldn't watch.  She simply couldn't.  

Mara closed her eyes again and used the Force to deafen her ears.  But she could not cut herself off from the Force entirely – that would be far too dangerous to her own safety.  And so Mara's awareness told her all that occurred.  

She sensed the monstrous rancor scent food, and Oola's incandescent fear.  

She did not observe the beast's release from its cell, but she perceived it all the same.  

She did not witness the hulking predator stalking the girl.

She did not hear Oola's bloodcurdling scream.  

She did not see the enormous clawed hand reach down and grab the dancer.  

Instead she felt them all – and the terrible, awful, soul-rending shriek in the Force that followed.

And then she felt Oola's presence in the Force wink out of existence.

Mara's mind barely registered her body doubling over, and vomiting, and collapsing to her knees, and slumping into the wall, and gulping for air, and crying.  

Never before in her life had Mara so badly wished she weren't strong in the Force.

When she regained her ability to focus on her surroundings Mara realized only a few seconds had passed.  The crowd in Jabba's throne room was still gathered over the rancor pit, celebrating the unexpected show.  Mara wiped her lips with the back of her hand and rose to her feet.  After bracing herself on the wall with an outstretched arm and compelling her body to breathe again, she began to pace unsteadily toward the bar for a drink or two or three to rinse her mouth, dull her mind, and wash away her pain.  

Oola's pain, that still clung to Mara in the Force like a mynock to a starship's hull.

On her slow, deliberate trek across the room Mara gazed through the dispersing throng by the rancor pit until her eyes came to rest on Jabba himself.  The enormous slug was laughing.  He was laughing at Oola's fate, as though the entertainment of her death was far superior to that of her dancing.  And in the Force Mara could sense that the Hutt felt no remorse for the girl's death.  None at all.  

And in that instant Mara realized she hated Jabba.  Truly, completely, and unreservedly hated him.  

_A Jedi must not know hate_, she told herself, recalling the lesson learned since infancy.  But she did not mean it this time, not deep down inside in the core of her soul.  Mara squeezed her eyes closed and tried to deny her feelings, but she couldn't lie to herself.  She didn't want to feel this way.  She knew she shouldn't.  Yet try as she might she couldn't make the feelings go away.  After all the torment and suffering she had inflicted on her Master for his failure, and even remembering all the other terrible consequences of his dreadful feelings on Gimna 3, now she had learned that she wasn't strong enough to drive away her dark emotions either.  She was weak.  She was a hypocrite.  She was a failure – the same as her Master. 

She was all alone in the universe, and always would be. 

_A Jedi must not know hate_, she repeated.  But even as she thought the words she knew she couldn't follow the maxim.  For her, here and now, it was not true.   

Mara hated Jabba.  

And someday soon, when the time was right, he would die because of it.

---

Jedi Knight Danaé Skywalker waited while the codes on her datapad sliced the lock to the warehouse's fourth-floor loft.  The hair on the back of her neck was rising.  The toe of her boot was impatiently stubbing the base of the wall.  Her fingertips were tapping on the underside of the datapad.  

This was it.  She knew it.  She had no doubt.  

The datapad beeped and the lock clicked open.  Danaé pressed the button to open the door and strode inside, waving on the lights as she entered.  The wide, high-ceilinged, windowless room was vacant.  Completely empty.  

But somehow she had known it would be.  

Yet she also knew for certain that this room had been the Vyhrragian safehouse in Gonnolli very recently – well over a month after the planet of Gimna 3 had been retaken from Argis by the Republic.  What had begun as a simple inquiry into a few unsubstantiated rumors had burgeoned into a multitude of leads – and her conviction that the enemy was up to something.  Something big.  Something deadly.  Very deadly. 

The weapons program she had been investigating for weeks had been here.  Whatever it was the enemy was creating, they had been doing it here.  In this very room.  Not long ago.  Not long at all. 

Danaé paced into the middle of the massive room, stretching her feelings out in the Force to scan for danger.  Nothing reached her perceptions, though, so she slung the backpack off her shoulders and began to unload the gear.  Within a few minutes she had set up a full range of scanning equipment to probe the air and surfaces of the room, and had dispatched two small espionage droids to check the nooks and crevices of the space.  

It would take at least an hour for the devices to perform their analysis, maybe more.  And there was nothing she could do but wait.  Danaé walked to the door and triggered the locks again, then went back to the center of the room.  She lowered herself into a cross-legged position on the floor and closed her eyes.  

The Force flowed through her mind and body with ease, extending her awareness beyond the simple empty room around her.  First she confirmed there were no hidden traps in the room.  Then she scanned for recording devices or other tricks that might have been left behind to alert the enemy of her presence here – and found nothing.  With the physical aspects of the room itself resolved or being handled by her equipment, Danaé switched to her other option.  A Jedi's biggest advantage as an investigator.  She surged her awareness further into the Force, seeking out the lingering manifestations in the ether of the room's previous occupants.  

To her surprise the sensations were strong and instantaneous.  She felt a sense of urgency.  Haste.  After a few moments she realized it was the emotions associated with emptying the room.  It had been done only a short time ago – and in a rush.  Perhaps even today.  And yet she felt no fear or anxiety – only fierce determination.  So the enemy had not fled from her or anyone else.  They had been ordered away, and had accomplished their departure with incredible speed and precision.  

And there was something more.  Troubling.  Elusive.  Dangerous.  The power of the dark side.  

The Sith.

Danaé's eyes popped open.  A Sith Lord had been here.  Today.  At the end, overseeing the departure.  So this wasn't merely a Vyhrragian weapons program.  It was being run by the Sith.  That made everything more dangerous.  Much more dangerous.  

Suddenly her datapad began to beep.  Danaé scooted over to where it sat on the floor, propped up against an air-particles scanner as it processed the results from all the various devices.  Sure enough, the initial assessment was ready.  One hour in, right on schedule. 

Danaé picked up her datapad and read the results – and her heart skipped a beat. 

"Oh," she whispered.  "Not good."

---****

Colonel Bryon Skywalker stood in the rear of the cockpit of the Republic Army gunship, his feet planted wide and his hand clenched firmly around the handgrip above his head.  Out the front viewport he watched the craft slicing through the dense fog settled over the white-capped waves of the ocean and saw that the thick layers of polluted clouds had painted the morning sky a dull gray hue.  The industrial planet Xixus would not win any awards for natural beauty or tourist interest.  But within two hours the world would be in the Republic's hands again, and he would be its conqueror.  It would be the fourth system in as many weeks retaken from the enemy under his leadership, no doubt placing him at the top of the Vyhrragian's list of most hated – and most feared – Republic commanders.  

The triple-encrypted communications line on the pilot's console beeped.  

Bryon smiled.  "Let's hear it, Sergeant."

"Yes, sir," the young man said, reaching his left hand over to tap the button.  

"Aurora Command, this is Aurora One.  Do you copy?"

"Copy, Major," Bryon replied, doing his best to hold himself still so his obsidian-black Special Forces battle armored would stop rattling.  

"We're in position, Colonel," the woman's voice said.  "On your mark." 

"Very good, Major."  Bryon glanced down at the pilot, who already had raised his left hand in the air with two fingers held up.  Only a few heartbeats later he snapped his wrist forward, then lowered his hand to the gunship's control stick again.  Bryon nodded to himself.  "On my mark, Major."

"Copy, Command."

Bryon scanned the console until his eyes found the indicator lights he wanted – still blinking red.  "Ready, Major.  Three…  Two…  One…  Mark!"

The comlink feed clicked off on his signal, and Bryon kept his eyes focused on the lights.  They blinked red once – twice – three times more, then flashed to a steady green.  A second later the comlink clicked open again.  

"All detonations activated properly, Colonel," came the voice of Major Starblaze.  

"Roger, Aurora One," Bryon said calmly.  "The city's shields are down."

"Copy, Command," she replied with a hint of triumph in her voice.  "Your orders, sir?"

"Aurora One, mission Bantha-Wampa-Mynock is a go.  You're on the decapitation strike, as promised."

"Copy, Command.  Bantha-Wampa-Mynock.  We're on our way."

"Very good, Major," Bryon grinned.  "See you shortly at the target zone."

"Roger, Colonel," she said.  "Thank you, sir."

"You're welcome, Major.  But you should know by now I always keep my word."

"Of course, sir.  It's appreciated nonetheless." 

"Understood, Major," he nodded to no one in particular.  The comlink clicked off momentarily before activating again.  

"Aurora Command, this is Renegade Leader," the deep, expressionless male voice said.  "Our scanners read green clear to the objectives.  What is your pleasure?"

Bryon suppressed his chuckle at the formal query from Captain Fel.  The Corellian ace really needed to lighten up a little.  Then again, the seriousness with which he treated every engagement no doubt explained his squadron's unparalleled precision.  "Green confirmed, Renegade Leader.  Proceed at will."

"Roger, Aurora Command.  We're going in."

"Copy, Renegade Leader.  Clear skies."  

A quick double-click of the comlink preceded the feed's termination.  Bryon glanced down at his gunship's pilot again.  "How long until we reach the target zone, Sergeant?"

"Twelve minutes, Colonel," the young man said without shifting his gaze from the viewport ahead.  

"Get us there in ten, Sergeant."

"Of course, sir."  The pilot's left hand adjusted a few settings on the console, and the gunship rocked subtly as its speed increased.  "May I ask why, sir?"

"You may," Bryon replied.  "Hazard a guess first, though, Sergeant."

"Yes, sir," the young man said.  "Because you'd like to observe the Renegade's final bombing run, sir?"

"A fine guess, Sergeant," Bryon said, "but an incorrect one.  I would like to arrive before Aurora One."

"I see, sir," the pilot chuckled.  "In that case, I'll get us there in eight."

"I like the way you think, Sergeant," Bryon laughed.  "Keep this up, and you'll be my personal pilot in no time."

---

Artoo Detoo was busily using his small welder arm to make a series of repairs to one of the _Millennium Falcon_'s stabilizers when the piercing voice intruded into the quiet aboard the deserted freighter.  

"Artoo Detoo, where are you?" demanded See Threepio.  

Artoo honked and squealed indignantly and continued at his task.  

"Artoo, what do you think you're doing?" exclaimed the golden protocol droid as he ambled into the small space.  "I really don't think you should be tinkering with this starship."

Artoo trilled a quick reply.  "What do you mean Captain Chewbacca gave you a list of repairs to work on?  I heard nothing about any such list."

Artoo honked a rude retort.  "Well, I don't know," Threepio huffed.  "Just because I'm not making any repairs myself doesn't mean I shouldn't be informed of our assignments while our masters are away." 

Artoo blooped and whistled.  "I most certainly am not an overanxious ninny, you ungrateful bucket of bolts," Threepio said sharply, banging his metal fingers on Artoo's dome.  "I simply think this mission sounds entirely too dangerous."  

Artoo toodled a query.  "Oh yes," Threepio responded.  "Quite dangerous indeed.  If I told you half the things I've heard about this Jabba the Hutt, you'd probably short-circuit." 

Artoo razzed a dissatisfied rejoinder.  "What do you mean, then they should have taken us along?  You're not a hero, Artoo.  You're a mechanic."

Artoo honked and razzed some more.  "I am not a coward!" Threepio insisted less than convincingly.  "I simply think that we can best serve our masters by doing what we were programmed to do." 

Artoo trilled and beeped an order.  "Well, yes, I suppose that does mean I could communicate with the _Falcon_'s computers."  Threepio paced closer the console at which Artoo was working.  "What are you trying to determine?"

Artoo whistled in amusement.  "How to shut down protocol droids?  Why, I never!"

---

Mara sat wedged in the corner, slumped against the wall, with the haze of intoxication clouding her mind and dulling her perceptions in the Force.  She shouldn't have had so many drinks; to be less than fully aware and completely attuned to the Force put her in danger.  Quite possibly it could put the entire mission in danger.  And yet Mara had downed the drinks anyway. 

It had been the only way she was able to drive away the all-consuming pain brought on by sensing in the Force Oola's sudden and horrifying demise.  

Mara felt a pair of tears trail down her cheeks and wiped them away with the back of her hand.  She was a Jedi Knight now.  She was supposed to be controlled.  Serene.  But she wasn't – not by a long shot.  She should've been able to withstand the anguish of Oola's death and maintain her composure.  But she hadn't.  After all the months – no, years – she'd complained about being denied the chance to take the Trials and earn her Knighthood, it seemed terribly ironic that she felt so unworthy of that title now that she'd acquired it.  Sitting here on the grimy floor of Jabba's throne room, drunk and blubbering, wasn't exactly the Jedi ideal.  

At least the room was quiet now.  The bright lights on the center of the floor were off, the band was silent, and many of the ruffians and thugs who'd been here earlier had left – or were asleep in all manner of places and positions in the room.  Jabba's dais had rolled back behind a curtain, where the Hutt no doubt was long asleep as well.  If nothing else Mara took solace in the fact that her embarrassment was a private one. 

A few minutes later she vaguely sensed a presence approaching carefully across the dim floor.  A friendly presence, fortunately.  That was good.  

Calrissian sat down next to her and braced his back on the wall too.  "Hey."

Mara swallowed hard and stretched out her awareness in the Force to stabilize her emotions.  "Hey."

"We're clear, right?"

Mara extended her perceptions in a quick scan of the room, and concluded no one was aware of their secret, hushed conversation.  "Yeah.  We're clear."

"Looks like you took it pretty hard today, what happened to Oola." 

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry," Lando said, resting his hand gently on her knee.  

Mara batted it away.  "Yeah, well.  Sometimes being a Jedi has its downsides.  That's one of them."

"Sure," he shrugged.  

She knew he didn't really understand, but he was smart enough not to press the point.  "What's our status?"

"Tomorrow," he said.  

"Really?"

"Really."

Mara hugged her knees to her chest.  "About kriffin' time."

"Hey, I didn't enjoy the wait any more than you," Lando said.  

"I know," she nodded.  "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he said.  "Look, I know it's taken a long time.  But they had to be sure they covered every contingency.  They had to be sure the plan was airtight." 

"Yeah," she muttered.  "Sure."

"Are you all right, Mara?"

"Yeah.  Why?"

"It's not too late for me to call it off.  Or delay it."

Mara blew out a breath sharply.  "Why would you do that?"

"We need you sharp for this to work," he said.  "Our success depends on it."

"I'll be sharp," she hissed.  

"Okay, okay," Lando said, holding up his hands defensively.  "So tomorrow it starts."

"How much do you know about the plan?"

"Not much.  We weren't sure we had a totally secure feed."

"Sure," Mara said.  "Makes sense."

"I do know it's two stages."

"Right.  Get another team in before we make the move."

"Exactly."  Lando rose into a crouch.  "Anyway, it's tomorrow."

Mara nodded.  "I'll be sharp.  I promise."

He nodded.  "Right."

She knew he needed to go before anyone could wake up and get suspicious about the aloof dancing girl Arica talking to someone in the middle of the night.  "Tomorrow."

Lando stood up and turned away. 

"Wait," Mara said.  

He turned back. 

"May the Force be with you," she whispered.  

He tipped his head.  "And also with you."****


	3. Chapter Two

**CHAPTER TWO**

A disturbingly pale-skinned male Twi'lek named Bib Fortuna led the diminutive Ubese bounty hunter called Boushh and his towering Wookiee prisoner down the dark and gloomy corridor of Jabba the Hutt's palace.  As the trio headed in the direction of the throne room the majordomo yammered on in Basic about how pleased his master would be that someone finally had been able to capture the elusive Republic Navy officer.  The Wookiee remained silent and the bounty hunter muttered occasional affirmations.  That didn't stop the Twi'lek's endless ramblings.  

Beneath the helmet of her disguise Leia Skywalker's emotions were running wild.  

She bit her lower lip to fight off the initial surge of fear, now that her mission was really underway.  

She gritted her teeth in determination to succeed quickly.  

She clenched her fists in anger that she had to be here at all.  

She took a deep breath when her heartbeat raced at the burst of anticipation that finally she would see Han again.  

She frowned at her doubts about whether she had made the right decision to come here. 

She smiled at her confidence in herself – and in her love for Han.  

She sighed in frustration that Fortuna simply would not shut up. 

Leia bit back her retorts and followed along, speaking only enough to give the Twi'lek the appearance that she was paying any attention at all to him.  Which, of course, she wasn't.  In the minutes since entering the Hutt's palace with Chewbacca she had been thinking only about Han.  

It had been a year since he had been torn from her life during the frenzied evacuation of Gimna 3 when the invading Vyhrragian legions conquered the planet.  As her transport had flown away she had watched in horror as Han was surrounded by enemy soldiers and taken prisoner.  Despite her constant efforts it had taken nearly that entire year to determine whether Han was still alive or where he was being held.  Initially she had believed the Vyhrragians had retained custody, but after a time her less reputable contacts back home on Naboo had verified that the Hutt's bounty on Captain Solo was no longer posted.  

Then it had taken additional months to determine that Jabba had not executed Han after all, and to uncover at which of the criminal syndicates many facilities Han was being detained.  Just after Luke and Mara had passed their Trials and become Jedi Knights Leia finally had been able to confirm that Han was here, in this palace on Tatooine.  Immediately the rescue plan had been put in motion.  

For almost a month Leia had been here on Tatooine too, assisting in the preparations for the final stages of the mission.  She had taken a leave of absence from her post as Senator from Naboo and had installed as Acting Senator her trusted handmaiden Sarré – her lifelong friend who was now her sister-in-law and mother of her little nephew Nyklas.  By not providing an explanation to her constituents for her departure Leia had taken a considerable political risk – but not one, she had decided, so great as disclosing the truth.  

A Galactic Senator did not infiltrate a gangster's compound to liberate prisoners.  It simply was not done. 

But Leia was not any Senator, and she was not about to let the expectations and protocols of her position keep her from doing whatever it took to win Han's freedom.  She loved him.  Every day without him had hurt – more than she had ever imagined it could have.  If doing this cost her reelection to the Senate, so be it.  Some things in life were more important than career or fame or money.  

In Leia's mind love was definitely one of those things.  

Yet Leia could not shake completely her doubts about her feelings.  By now she had been apart from Han nearly twice as long as she had known him before his capture.  When he fortuitously had joined the rescue team that had freed her from the Sith's custody on Xixus, something about him had captured her imagination from the first moment she saw him.  Then she had arranged an advisory position for him at the Senate, and they had worked side by side for three months for a military affairs subcommittee.  

And in that time Han Solo had stolen her heart.  

Then they had been separated for three months by their respective responsibilities until Leia had found an excuse for them to work together again.  The spark between them had rekindled instantly, and even before the mission was really begun he had finally kissed her.  The investigation of conditions in the refugee camp on Pharenniol had gone smoothly until Han had endured a terrible beating at the hands of a gang of goons – the price he had paid for telling a menacing thug to leave Leia alone.  That night Leia had spent in his bed, having finally accepted that Han was the man who could fill – and then overflow – the gaping void in her heart left by the loss of her late husband Jarren Organa.  It had been even more wonderful than she had imagined.  

Barely more than a standard day later Han was gone.  

Despite the year that had passed since then, however, not for a moment had Leia felt her love for Han waver.  There was something about him – something she could not even attempt to explain – that told her a pure and bright truth of their destiny to be together.  Leia was not a Jedi, but she believed unquestioningly in the power of the Force and its will.  And she had no doubt – none at all – that her love for Han was the will of the Force.  

She had to concede that she had not known him all that long – certainly far less time than she had known Jarren before she had admitted her love for the man she had married.  But time was meaningless in the face of a love of this power.  Her parents had known each other even less time than this, after all, when they had fallen in love and married.  And Leia also had no doubt that Han's love for her had this same urgency.  

It was that utter faith in the rightness of her love for Han that gave her the strength to believe that his feelings for her also had endured through this horrible year of separation.  In many ways Han was a puzzle – a puzzle that she knew would take decades to solve, if she ever did.  He was reckless yet unnervingly poised.  Insubordinate yet loyal.  Crazed yet focused.  Sarcastic yet sincere.  But Leia had figured out one part of Han almost immediately – he did not easily give himself in friendship or love, but when he did those bonds were indestructible.  She had seen it in his connections to Chewie and Lando – and in his eyes when he looked at her.  

The fact that they had expressed their love in words only once was irrelevant.  All that mattered was that they were destined to be together.  Always and forever.  

Leia had never been as profoundly convinced of anything in her entire life as she was of that fact.  So as the Hutt's majordomo led Chewie and her into Jabba's throne room, Leia felt a wave of calm and confidence wash over her.  Soon this would all be over, and she and Han would be together again.  Nothing else mattered.  

With the chain of Chewie's manacles gripped in one hand she strode confidently toward a position directly in front of the large stone dais that held the massive blob of Hutt.  Just before she took her final step forward she felt a shiver of danger run down her spine – and stopped in her tracks.  She didn't have time to wonder why Mara would have warned her.  She simply obeyed.  

"I have come for the bounty on this Wookiee," Leia said, allowing the voice modulator in the helmet to translate her words into Ubese and project them in a grim male voice. 

Jabba rumbled in Huttese, "At last we have the despised Chewbacca."

Leia wasn't about to let on that she understood him perfectly, having learned Huttese at a young age in her diplomatic training.  She stood in place and waited.  

Jabba shouted angrily.  

"Yes, uh… oh… yes, Your Greatness," said the airy male voice of a protocol droid.  "Yes, I am here."

Jabba waved his hand and spoke.  "His High Exaltedness, Jabba the Hutt, bids you welcome," said the protocol droid, "and will gladly pay you the reward of twenty-five thousand."

Leia shifted her gaze slightly to find the droid.  Sure enough, there he was next to the dais.  The same model as Threepio, except silver instead of gold.  "Fifty thousand," she said.  "No less."

Jabba roared in rage and flailed his arms with such force he knocked the translator to the floor.  When the silver droid had regained his footing he said, "The illustrious Jabba demands to know why he must pay fifty thousand."

Leia smirked to herself that the droid had omitted nearly half the words – all profane – that Jabba had used.  "Because," she said after a long moment, "I hold the advantage here."

In a flash Leia raised her hands in front of her.  Her right hand drew her large blaster pistol, which she pointed directly at Jabba.  She turned over her left hand to reveal that it held not only the chain to the Wookiee's manacles, but also a small bronze sphere with a line of blinking lights around its circumference.  She depressed the button on the sphere's top and a transparent energy shield formed a conical dome over her and Chewie.  It had taken Luke several weeks to rebuild and modify an old droideka's blaster shield until it worked the way they needed it to.  Suddenly the bounty hunter and the prisoner were impervious to attack – without comprising the deadly aim at Jabba from the barrel of the blaster just barely protruding beyond the shield.  

Jabba bellowed again, and laser blasts flew at the energy shield from several points around the room.  All of them dissipated against the barrier with hissing _thwunks_.  

Jabba waved his hand and barked an order, and the shooting stopped.  "This bounty hunter is my kind of scum," he said in Huttese.  "Fearless and inventive." 

Beneath her helmet Leia smiled.  Jabba was no fool – and he knew he was beaten.  By the time a barrage of laser fire could take down her energy shield he would be good and dead.  And if there was anything the Hutt valued even more than money, it was his own life.  

Jabba began to laugh, and spoke again.  "Jabba offers the sum of thirty-five thousand," the protocol droid informed her.  "And I do suggest you take it."

Leia had always thought Threepio had the prissiest voice she had ever heard.  Not anymore. 

"I accept," she said, lowering her weapon and wondering mildly whether the modulator would convey the distinct tone of triumph in her voice.  Thirty-five thousand was enough to upgrade the _Falcon_, take an amazing vacation to celebrate Han's freedom, and still have plenty left over. 

Jabba chortled and slapped the droid on the back, nearly sending him to the floor again.  "We have a deal," the droid said.  "The mighty Jabba says, 'Well played.'"

Leia nodded and deactivated the energy shield.  One of Jabba's minions took the chain to Chewie's manacles from her, and Leia stepped away from the center of the room in front of the dais and headed off into the crowd.  Scanning the unsavory assemblage of gangsters, mercenaries, and bounty hunters, it took only a few seconds to pick out Lando's disguise along the far wall.  He tipped his head to her almost imperceptibly.  A few seconds later Leia's eyes found Mara in a dark corner, almost unrecognizable with the black hair and without her Jedi robes.  Her friend held up her hands with fingertips touching, then flicked them downward.  

A trapdoor.  That would explain the warning, all right. 

Leia tipped her head in thanks, and Mara nodded.  The three of them could not meet now – that would be too conspicuous.  But soon they would, and soon after that the final stage of the plan would be implemented.  

And then Leia would have Han again.  The thought made her so giddy she felt tears tracing down her cheeks beneath her helmet.  It was finally happening.  It was finally really happening. 

---

The purchase of a bag of a dozen ripe juri fruit was all it had taken to earn the confidences of the very observant shopkeeper just down the block from the Vyhrragian safehouse.  Sure enough, he remembered seeing a largo cargo speeder at the building all morning, and better yet he remembered the markings on it.  Now Danaé was on her way to the shipping firm's headquarters to find out the next crucial piece of information she needed.  

Danaé finished off her third juri fruit and wiped the drips of juice from her chin with the back of her hand.  Tossing the core into the trash bin on a café's patio as she passed by, she scanned the crowd around her.  After a moment she saw a young girl seated glumly on the stoop of an apartment building.  Danaé paced over and dropped to one knee beside the girl.  "Here," she said, offering the mesh bag to skeptical child.  "Take these."  

The girl furrowed her brow.  "I'm not supposed to take things from strangers."

With her free hand Danaé drew out the side of her vest just enough so the girl could see the glittering silver lightsaber handle in the holster along her side.  "It's okay," she smiled.  "I'm a Jedi.  You can trust me."

The girl beamed.  "Wow!  I've never met a Jedi before.  Thank you!"

"It's my pleasure," Danaé said, rising to her feet again.  "May the Force be with you."

"Youg toog," the girl replied through a mouthful of juri fruit.  

Danaé strode quickly away, confident the girl's initial consternation and sudden glee had prevented her from forming any solid memory of Danaé's features.  And if the girl told anyone a Jedi had given her free fruit, it would no doubt be dismissed as the fanciful imagination of a child.  

Tugging at her grimy vest with both hands, Danaé strode into the shipping firm's offices.  Dressed in the nondescript attire of a spacer, she doubtless looked like ordinary clientele.  The blaster on her hip still felt strange, though.  It was so much heavier than her lightsaber. 

The young woman behind the desk smiled.  "May I help you?"

"Yeah," Danaé scowled, affecting a deeper, grumpier voice than usual.  "You moved some guys outta the city this morning.  Took their stuff offplanet."  That she didn't know for sure, but she had to play the odds if this was going to work.  "And these bums owed me.  Big time.  I need you to tell me where they shipped off to."

The clerk frowned.  "I'm sorry, miss, but we're not allowed to give out customer information of that kind."

Danaé reached into her pocket and withdrew a handful of doubloons of glimmering aurodium.  "I can make it worth your while, I'm sure." 

A few minutes later Danaé jogged swiftly down an alley, heading back toward the hotel room she was using as her base of operations.  The bribe – quite a reasonable sum, all things considered – had revealed only the designation number of the shipping container into which the Vyhrragian cargo had been loaded.  Now she needed to know to which spaceport the container had been taken, and the ship upon which it was being transported.  As she ran along, Danaé already was formulating her plan for infiltrating the Ministry of Commerce to learn that information as quickly as possible.  Maybe, if the Force was with her today, she could stop the ship before it could leave.  

For a moment she thought back to the clerk at the shipping firm.  Although Danaé had left behind the bribe, fair and square, she'd also used the Force to wipe the young woman's memory of their encounter.  At the time it had seemed the right thing to do, in case the Vyhrragians should come back to see if they were being followed – or still had agents in the city who might have seen Danaé enter and leave the office.  For the woman's own safety, it probably was better she honestly have no memory of anyone asking about this shipment.  And even now Danaé felt no discomfort in the Force about her decision, no nagging doubts or pangs of guilt.  So she must have done the right thing.  Her conscience would have told her by now if she hadn't.  

Still, though, it didn't seem fair to invade an innocent person's mind like that.  Danaé took a deep breath and kept running.  Just because it was the right decision didn't mean she had to like it.  

---****

Reclining on the cot in his cell with his hands clasped behind his head, Han Solo sighed when he heard the rattling of the jailor's keys and the grating scratch of metal on metal in the ancient lock.  It wasn't time for his daily meal, so that could mean one of several unpleasant possibilities was on tap for Han's afternoon.  

"Whatever you're sellin', I don't want any," he muttered under his breath. 

The Rodian heaved open the massive iron door and rejoined something in his alien tongue.  A second later a huge shaggy blur stumbled inside, roaring in indignation.  The Rodian slammed the door closed again and locked it.  

By then Han already had bolted upright on the bed.  "Chewie?  Is that really you?"

His oldest and dearest friend was at his side in an instant, cheering happily and scooping him up into a bone-crushing embrace that lifted him clean into the air.  

"I'm glad to see you too, pal," Han gasped.  "But would you mind letting me breathe?"

Chewie dropped him unceremoniously to his feet again and slapped him on the back.  The Wookiee looked him up and down and wroofed a question.  

Han shrugged.  "I've been better," he admitted.  "But all things considered I'm doing all right."

His friend wrawled an unconvinced reply.  

"No, really," Han insisted.  "I'm okay.  I'm good."

Chewie nodded, patted him on the top of his head, and ruffled his hair.  

Han ducked away and sat down on his cot.  "So, did a bounty hunter catch you or something?"

The Wookiee folded himself cross-legged on the floor against the opposite wall, then murmured an explanation in a hushed voice.  

Han's eyebrows shot upward.  "You're here on purpose?"  Even in his surprise, he knew clearly enough to whisper his reply.  "A rescue?" 

Chewie nodded. 

Han sprang up from the cot and sat down on the floor right next to his friend.  He knew immediately it had to be a private operation – the Navy wouldn't come to rescue a single officer.  And if they did it'd be with a huge commando team with guns blazing.  This was definitely a private job.  They leaned their heads in close, and Han whispered so softly he could barely hear himself.  "So it's you and Lando?"

Chewie nodded, and then said more. 

"Luke?  And Mara?"  Han couldn't believe it.  "They're Jedi Knights?"

Chewie muttered a grumpy retort.  

"No, it's not that I don't have faith in them.  It's just strange to think about it."

His friend leaned in even closer and told Han something he hadn't expected at all. 

"What?"  Han almost couldn't keep his voice quiet.  "Leia?  Leia's here?"

Chewie nodded.  

"You can't be serious!"

Chewie shook his head and wrawled a confirmation.  

"This isn't funny, buddy," Han grumbled.  

The Wookiee slapped Han on the back of his head and grumbled back. 

"Okay, okay," Han said, rubbing the site of the smack with his fingers.  "You're not lying.  I just can't believe she's here." 

Chewie only shrugged.  

Han shook his head in disbelief.  "I'm out of it for a little while and everybody gets delusions of grandeur."

Chewie wrapped an arm around Han's shoulders and pulled him into a tight embrace.  

There was no need to say anything more.  Han knew his captivity was about to end, and there was nothing Jabba could do to stop it.  Nothing at all.  

Leaning his head on Chewie's shoulder, Han closed his eyes to stifle his tears.  He wasn't going to cry in front of Chewie.  Not after a year.  No way.  He wasn't going to cry.  Period. 

And then it really sank in.  Leia was here.  Here.  In Jabba's palace.  Leia was the Galactic Senator from Naboo.  Her father was on the Jedi Council.  Her mother was a powerful politician.  She was rich.  She was famous.  She was powerful.  Really powerful.  

He still found it really hard to accept that she could love a guy like him.  

But he couldn't exactly deny that any more.  She'd risked her own life to come and rescue him.  Not strong-armed the Navy into doing it.  Not gotten her father to send a squad of Jedi Masters.  Not paid some team of professionals to storm the palace.  Not any of those things.  Instead she and her brother and her friend and Chewie and Lando were here to get him.  Nobody else.  Leia had come for him herself.  

Han almost didn't believe it.  He couldn't explain how he'd fallen so hard for her so fast.  He'd had a lot of time to think about it, and that hadn't made a difference.  There wasn't any sense to it – and he'd given up trying to find any.  All he knew was that he loved her more powerfully than he'd ever believed possible.  He'd thought about her every single day since Fett had captured him on Gimna 3.  

And every night when he'd gone to sleep he'd felt his greatest fears.  That somewhere out there in the galaxy Leia was going to sleep too – with another man at her side.  That waiting for him had been too great a burden, and she'd moved on.  That her love for him, as strong and true as it had been a year ago, hadn't been deep enough to withstand the pain of being separated for so long.  He'd tried to tell himself those fears were foolish, but all alone here in this miserable cell it had been awfully hard to shove those doubts away.  

Those doubts sure seemed stupid now.  

Leia was here.  She was actually here.  There were no words she could have spoken, nothing else she could have done, that would have proven to him more clearly than this that her love had endured through all of this just as his love for her had.  The thought took his breath away.  

And suddenly Han felt scared.  Because there was nothing in the galaxy he could say or do that could possibly measure up to this.  What was he going to do?  Just say, "I love you" and hope she believed him?

That wasn't going to cut it.  Not by a long shot. 

---

Anakin flew his customized airspeeder through the nighttime skies of Coruscant, zooming in and out of traffic lanes and swerving past towering skyscrapers with a graceful ease that belied the frenetic and harried paths of the vehicles around him.  It wasn't quite Podracing – but it brought back fond memories.  And it was just plain fun.  

At his right in the passenger seat of the open-roofed speeder Padmé sat with her eyes closed.  Tonight was one of those nights it was easier if she just didn't watch.  

"Frustrating day today, angel?" he asked softly over the thrumming of the repulsordrive and the whistling of the wind.  Her unease was palpable in his mind, even when he wasn't actively scanning her presence in the Force.  "Is it about the fleet redeployments?"

Her eyes still closed, Padmé nodded.  "Yes.  It's looking more and more as if the Senate won't approve them."

"But you don't need it, right?  Under the Declaration of War you can give the order anyway."

"I could," she said.  "But I don't want to proceed that way." 

"And you're worried you'll have to."

"I am."  Padmé sighed deeply.  Then she leaned over, wrapped her arms around him, and rested her head on his shoulder.  "My options are decreasing every day."

Anakin tilted his head and rested his cheek against her soft curls.  "Either you let the Senate bog down the war, or you take control yourself.  Neither one is good."

"That's right," she whispered.  She took a deep breath and cuddled against him more, her blue flight suit clinging to his Jedi robes.  "I don't want to be a dictator, Ani.  It goes against everything I believe in, everything I've always stood for." 

"I suppose it does," Anakin said gently.  "But you also pledged to the Senate and the Republic that you would do what it takes to win the war.  If it's the only way, you have no choice."

"I know," she whimpered, barely holding back her tears.  "But if I seize control from the Senate completely, I've brushed aside democracy, Ani.  I can't do that.  I'd be no better than Argis."

He focused on the Force to guide his flying as he leaned his face down to kiss her firmly on the lips.  "That is _not_ true, angel, and you know it.  First of all, you're allied with the Jedi, not the Sith." 

"Fair enough," she admitted.  

He kissed her again.  "Second, you're not evil."

"No," she giggled.  "I guess I'm not."

He kissed her again, deeply and passionately.  "And third, this is only temporary.  When the war is over you'll return power to the Senate.  And that will be soon.  Really soon."

"You're right," she conceded.  "And I could always call for a confidence vote afterwards to ratify my actions."

"See?  It's not so bad," Anakin said, lifting his eyes to the airspeeder traffic in front of him again.  "You'll give the Senate every chance to be reasonable, angel, I know you will.  And if they won't… Well, then you'll do what's necessary.  You'll do your duty." 

"Yes," Padmé said.  She hugged him tightly.  "Thank you, Ani.  I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You'd be fine," he said.  

"Let's not find out," she insisted.  Then she chuckled.  "By the way, when did Sarré become such a proponent of aggressive tactics?  She used to be like Leia, practically a pacifist.  All of a sudden she's the one pushing me to order Victory Strike.  It's a little disconcerting."

"I think it's actually pretty obvious, angel," Anakin said thoughtfully.  "Bryon's more and more involved at the front these last few months.  He's personally leading missions to recapture enemy planets.  He's risking his life every day to win this war, and the Senate couldn't care less."

She nodded against his shoulder.  "She almost lost him once," she whispered.  "She doesn't want to be a widow, or Nyklas to lose his father.  And she doesn't want any other wife or child to have to suffer that loss either."

"Exactly."

"I suppose you're right."  

"And don't forget," he said, "Victory Strike is Bryon's plan.  If anyone in the galaxy has total confidence it will succeed, it would be Sarré."

She smiled.  "Definitely.  I guess it's understandable when you think about it in those terms."

"You're usually a pacifist too, angel," he smiled.  "But Argis and the Sith have given us no choice but to fight them, and you've met that challenge the only way you can – with war.  For Sarré the stakes are even more personal.  That's all.  I doubt she's suddenly become a warmonger."

"No, I'm sure she hasn't," Padmé laughed at the absurdity of the idea.  She squeezed him close and kissed his neck.  "I'm tired.  I need to get to bed.  Take me home, Ani." 

Anakin kissed her forehead tenderly.  "As you wish, angel."

---

Darth Vengous strode quickly through the crowded spaceport, cutting around clumps of chatting pilots and ducking past solemn security guards.  Among the motley throng of humans and aliens no one noticed the woman in a black flight suit.  Although sometimes she missed the thrill of the fight, and wished she could provoke a riot here just to sate her own bloodlust, she left such matters to her apprentices.  She had more important tasks to do, and with the final confrontation with the Chosen One at hand she could not afford to lose her focus.  

She arrived at the _Ebony Fang_ and tapped in the security code on the small panel on its underside.  With a whir the boarding ramp began to lower, and Vengous marched inside even before it hit the ground.  She went straight to the cockpit and began to prepare her ship for takeoff.  

Everything was in place.  Her agents here on Talus were prepared to strike at her signal.  The team at the Fondor shipyards was ready too.  Her apprentices had checked in to confirm that their missions were proceeding on schedule.  So it was time for the next operation she would undertake personally.  

Victory would be hers, and soon.  

Vengous flew the _Ebony Fang_ into the orderly flow of traffic departing the bustling port, and for a moment she frowned.  To this day she couldn't ascertain how the Skywalker boy had survived the devastating wounds inflicted by Lord Barbarus' Sith sniper rifle on Gimna 3.  From what her spies had been able to determine, it seemed that an impossibly unlikely combination of factors had pulled him back from the brink of death.  The Force had been with the boy that day – even Vengous could not deny that.  

But the Force was with her now.  She could feel the power of the dark side surging in her veins and could sense the many strands of her design pulling the Chosen One and his kin into her traps.  There would be no escape for them this time.  Soon they would all be dead, and she would have her triumph.  

Soon.  Very soon.

---****

Bryon leaned against the low wall, his armored elbows to the sides as he focused his open eye through the sight of his sniper rifle.  Twelve stories below him stretched the wide boulevard leading to the Xixus Defense Forces headquarters building – still under the control of the Vyhrragian legions occupying the planet.  But in a matter of minutes the facility would be his.

"Feed One," he told the voice-activated comlink in his helmet.  "Ready, Will?"

"Like a nexu in heat, Bry," his best friend replied.  

"Thanks for the wonderful mental image, Graff," Bryon scowled.  "Feed Two."

"Any time, Skywalker," the sniper at the other corner of the roof said just as the comlink clicked over.  

"Aurora One, proceed," Bryon ordered.

"Copy, Colonel," said the grim, hushed voice of Major Starblaze.  

Bryon left the comlink feed open as he scanned the street and the surrounding buildings through the sight.  After a matter of seconds he watched over two dozen squads of eight black-armored Special Forces soldiers each begin advancing along the boulevard from beneath his position toward the headquarters building four hundred meters away.  The squads surged ahead with perfect execution, leapfrogging forward from building to building, exploiting all available cover, and keeping to formations that would provide easy patterns of cover fire.  

It didn't take long for the Vyhrragians to try to stop them. 

The first shots came from a window on the far side of the boulevard.  Instantly Bryon traced their path back to their origin and squeezed his trigger.  Will Graff matched his aim simultaneously and two streams of blaster bolts smashed into the building.  Chunks of glass and metal and stone flew into the air as their shots shredded the exterior and pounded inside.  After only three heartbeats Bryon released the trigger and waited.  

No more shots came from the window.  

He and Will took out a few more window shooters as the squads advanced, and the soldiers fended off the small groups of enemy troopers that emerged into the street to oppose them.  Bryon was almost starting to wonder if the fall of Xixus really could be this easy when an assault tank swung around the corner of a side street and opened fire on the Special Forces squads with its massive laser cannon. 

Bryon sighted the tank and pulled the trigger to automatic fire, sending bolt after bolt at the squat, heavily armored vehicle.  As he expected even the shots from his powerful rifle deflected harmlessly away.  

"Will," he barked into the comlink.  "Front curvature, two clicks below the cannon."

"Copy," Graff said.  

But even with two sets of sniper bolts colliding at the same exact point the tank did not slow its advance on their soldiers below.  The armor was just too strong.  

Bryon felt the heat of anger twisting his gut and a wave of rage building in his chest.  With a quick thought of his family – Sarré and his son – he took a deep breath, swallowed hard, and pushed those dangerous emotions aside.  He had a promise to keep.  A very important promise.  

"Concussion grenade, Aurora One," Bryon ordered over the open comlink feed.  "It should work.  Pierce the hull and we'll do the rest."

"Roger, Colonel," replied Starblaze in an instant.  "Blue Team, take the shot."

"Roger, Major," said a young man's voice.  A second later a muzzle flashed from the squad across the boulevard with the best angle on the tank. 

Bryon sighted the tank again.  Sure enough, a small sphere was magnetically adhered to its front.  Bryon ran a four-count in his head, then closed his eye.  When he opened it again a two-count later the smoke had just begun to clear from the front of the tank.  

He could see the hull breach clearly anyway.  

The hole in the tank's armor was only the size of a fist – but that was all he and Will needed.  An unrelenting barrage of blaster bolts flew from the pair of sniper rifles and disappeared through the breach.  It took just a few more seconds before the tank exploded in a massive fireball.  

"All clear, Aurora One," Bryon said after quickly scanning the boulevard again through his sight.  

"Roger, Colonel," Starblaze said.  The squads immediately advanced up the street again.  "Nice shooting."

"I aim to please."

"Really, Skywalker," she groaned.  "You need some better jokes."

"Here's a good one," he chuckled.  "How did the major get busted down to captain?"

Starblaze ignored him.  "Last one to the command center buys dinner."

"You're on," Bryon said.  "See you on the inside."

---

Late in the middle of the night a slim figure moved effortlessly through the deep shadows of Jabba's throne room, weaving her way around the slumbering forms of gangsters and goons that littered the floor.  The occasional snore or cough broke the silence, but the figure did not react to any of them.  Instead she proceeded on a deliberate path across the floor until she passed through an open archway.  Quickly she reached a hidden alcove along the dark, deserted corridor.  She ducked inside and sat down next to the bounty hunter Boushh, who was leaning with his back against the wall, his head slumped forward, and his blaster pistol in his lap. 

"Hey," she said as she folded her legs beneath her.  

The bounty hunter's head lifted up and faced her.  

She nodded.  "We're clear for a few minutes.  I'll know if anyone's headed this way.  It's okay."

With a sigh of relief Leia peeled off her helmet and set it in her lap.  "It's good to see you."

Mara smiled.  "It's good to see you too."

"Don't be a stranger," Leia teased, leaning in to kiss her friend's cheek in familial greeting. 

"Sorry," Mara said, returning the gesture.  "This place is getting to me, I guess."

"I can't even imagine.  At least it will all be over tomorrow."

"True." Then Mara winked.  "That was quite the entrance you made earlier."

"I suppose so," Leia laughed quietly.  "Too bad I can't use that one in the Senate."

"You mean the blaster or the energy shield?"

"The blaster."

Mara grinned.  "That's what I figured."

Leia shook her head in amazement.  "It's a good thing Luke's as good a mechanic as he claims.  If that shield hadn't worked, he'd have had a lot of explaining to do."

"I'm sure the citizens of Naboo would have been less than pleased."

"I meant Mom and Daddy, actually," Leia chuckled.

"Oh, right," Mara chuckled too.  "Yeah, I don't think they'd take it too well."

"No, they sure wouldn't."

"So… um… how is Luke?"

Leia looked deeply into her friend's troubled green eyes.  "He's fine.  Ready for this to be over, but fine."

"I'm ready for it to be over too," Mara muttered.  

Leia leaned in closer.  "He misses you."

"Sure."  

Leia raised her eyebrows.  "You two didn't talk yet, did you?"

Mara only shook her head. 

"Why not?  I thought you were going to after you were Knighted."

"That was the plan.  But everything just happened so fast, and we didn't have time."

"I'm sorry," Leia said sincerely, pulling Mara into a firm embrace.  "This is my fault."

"No, it's not," Mara insisted sharply.  "It's Luke's fault.  And mine, for letting him get away with it."

Leia smiled weakly.  "I still feel responsible."

"Don't," Mara scowled.  "This is between me and him."

Leia squeezed her friend even tighter.  "He knows how much you love him, Mara.  I know he does.  And he loves you back just as much.  I can see it in his eyes, and hear it in the way he talks about you." 

Mara snorted.  "Would it kill him to say it?  Just once?"

"I doubt it," Leia said with a little grin, trying to lighten the mood.  "Sometimes actions speak louder than words."

It didn't work.  Mara's scowl deepened into a grim frown.  "Yeah, well, sometimes words are important too."

"I know," Leia conceded gently as she relinquished the hug.  "I'm sorry.  Do you want me to talk to him?"

"No," Mara said instantly.  "No.  I'll handle this."

"Okay," Leia said reluctantly.  "If you insist."

"Thanks."

"Of course."  Leia took a deep breath.  "Do you know which one is Boba Fett?"

"Yeah, sure," Mara nodded.  "Why?"

"He's the one who got Han from the Vyhrragians somehow, and brought him here to collect the bounty from Jabba.  Point him out to me tomorrow, okay?  Show me through the Force or something."

"Okay.  I will."

"Thank you."

Mara looked at her quizzically.  "Why is this so important to you?"

"Fett took Han away from me," Leia snarled.  "He took away a year of happiness.  He's going to pay for that."

"Revenge is a dangerous emotion, Leia," said Mara quietly.  "And not just for Jedi."

"Maybe so," Leia said.  "But in this case I'm willing to make an exception."

---

Artoo waited at the main cockpit console of the _Millennium Falcon_ with his small interface arm connected to the input jack for the communications array.  He ran continuous scans of the primary comlink frequency and the six backup frequencies, expecting the signal at any moment.  

Threepio's voice projected down the freighter's narrow passageway.  "I think we have finally fixed the problem with the last lateral stabilizer," the protocol droid reported enthusiastically.  "Five tests in a row were successful."

Artoo blooped his agreement, then a question.  "Yes," Threepio said as he arrived in the open portal to the cockpit.  "The ship's computer believes the problem is fixed as well."

Artoo spun his dome around to face his counterpart and whistled.  "We seem to have reached a compromise," Threepio replied with a wave of his hand.  "I am fluent in over six million forms of communication, and I have never encountered a computer with such an odd mixture of dialects."

Artoo trilled and squawked.  "There's no reason to be rude, Artoo," the protocol droid huffed.  "I did my very best to understand this ship, but it was exceedingly difficult."

Artoo beeped a shrug.  "I most certainly agree," Threepio said.  "For a ship so heavily modified by men of the likes of Captain Solo, Captain Chewbacca, and Commander Calrissian, it's a wonder she's comprehensible at all."

Suddenly Artoo spun his interface arm rapidly and whistled excitedly.  "What do you mean," Threepio demanded, "it's the signal?  What signal?  What are you talking about?"

Artoo razzed and trilled the explanation.  "The final stage of the plan has been implemented?  Oh my!"  Threepio took a step forward and put his hand on Artoo's dome.  "I do hope they know what they're doing."

Artoo whistled and beeped.  "Get ready?  Get ready for what?"  Threepio was indignant.  "Artoo Detoo, you had better stop keeping things from me and explain yourself this instant!"****


	4. Chapter Three

**CHAPTER THREE**

The massive durasteel door shook noticeably and began to rise upward from the ground with a loud metallic screech.  Outside in the blazing heat of Tatooine's twin suns stood a Jedi Knight dressed in indigo robes and a billowing indigo cloak with the hood up over his head.  He waited patiently with his eyes closed until the door's ascent reached two meters, then strode calmly inside the palace compound of the crime lord Jabba the Hutt. 

Luke Skywalker kept his eyes closed as he passed through the portal.  With an almost imperceptible wave of his right hand he projected a pulse of electromagnetic energy to jam the weapons detectors installed just inside the door.  The devices did not sound the alarm, and Luke slid his hands back into the opposite sleeves of his robes.  He continued to scan his surroundings in the Force as he paced deliberately ahead.  

After a moment he heard another loud metallic screech and the thick blast door began its creaking descent.  Only then did Luke open his eyes in the dark, gloomy corridor.  It was as grimy and unpleasant as he had expected.  It stank worse than shaak dung.  And the stains of blood on the walls and floor were hardly inconspicuous.  

Just as the heavy door slammed closed behind him with an enormous boom he sensed the two figures approaching.  Luke took a deep breath and sighed.  He hadn't really expected Jabba to make this easy, but he'd still held out hope.  If nothing else, though, it would give him one last chance to ensure he was in the right frame of mind.  

The two short, rotund, green-skinned Gamorrean guards waddled up with their armor clanking and their vibroaxes brandished at him.  The pig-snouted aliens snorted something to him in their language. 

"I don't want a confrontation," he said quietly. 

The guards pointed their axes straight at him and snarled a warning. 

"Back down," Luke said softly.  "This is a fight you can't win." 

The guard on the left took a swing – and both vibroaxes were torn from their wielder's grips and smashed into uselessness against the stone walls of the corridor.  Luke's hands hadn't moved. 

"Allow me to pass," Luke said.  "I don't wish to harm you."

The guards squealed in indignation, curled their hands into fists, and charged him. 

Luke's hands slashed out from his sleeves and flew toward one another like a clap stopped in midair.  The two Gamorreans were thrown together with the strength of powerful shoves – and their helmeted heads collided with an echoing clang.  The unconscious bodies of the guards flopped backwards in opposite directions, clattering to the stone floor and leaving the way unobstructed for the Jedi Knight.  

Luke again tucked his hands into the opposite sleeves of his robes and paced forward.  Yes, he was in the right frame of mind for this mission.  He felt no anger at Jabba or his minions.  He felt no impatience to rush in with his lightsaber blazing.  He felt no urge to fight – only the desire to rescue Captain Solo and get out of here.  He felt no dark emotions, and that knowledge made him smile. 

The last time he'd been on Tatooine he hadn't maintained his emotional control, and it had been the first step toward his bigger failure.  When he and Mara had discovered that their friends Gars Von Krindlemeier and Ralli Gialla were being held prisoner by the Hutt Criminal Syndicate in Mos Eisley, Luke had allowed his impatience to cloud his judgment.  Against direct orders from their Masters he and Mara had infiltrated the prison to rescue them.  Although they'd managed to get their friends out of the compound, while being chased through the streets of the city by the Hutt's goons Gars and Ralli had ignored Luke's warning and run into a trap – and both of them had been killed.  The pain Luke felt at the loss of his former lover nearly had driven him into a lethal rage.  He knew that if Mara hadn't been there to stop him he would have drawn upon the dark side of the Force to kill. 

That night he and Mara had driven away the pain of their loss in the blissful unreality of passion, but before they'd had any time to think about – much less talk about – the feelings that they'd felt, they'd been called to Gimna 3.  There Luke had dueled the Sith Master, and by taunting Luke that she had turned Danaé's former Master, Oga Trill, to the dark side, and that Danaé herself was next, she had goaded Luke into a blind fury.  He'd relinquished his control and fought her with the power of his anger and hate – with the power of the dark side of the Force.  But the Sith Master was stronger in the dark side, of course, and she'd defeated Luke easily by cutting off his right hand.  

The only reason Luke wasn't dead was because Master Obi-Wan had arrived at the last possible second to block the mortal blow.  

Involuntarily Luke clenched the fingers of his cybernetic right hand inside the sleeve.  By sending Luke away from the duel, Master Obi-Wan had sacrificed his life to save his apprentice's.  Luke knew that had he been able to maintain his composure during his fight with the Sith Master, the outcome would have been different.  Fighting together against the Sith Master he and Master Obi-Wan might have prevailed – or at least they both would have escaped alive.  Instead Luke had lost his control, given in to the dark side, and killed Master Obi-Wan.  Not directly with his own blade, perhaps, but he'd caused his beloved Master's death all the same.  

His failure had killed Master Obi-Wan.  Luke doubted he'd ever forgive himself for that. 

After Gimna 3 Luke had trained as Master Windu's apprentice until he'd succeeded in his Trials and become a Jedi Knight two months ago.  Master Windu's greatest gift had been helping Luke gain a better understanding of his weaknesses as a Jedi.  Like his father, Luke had a strong streak of impatience and impulsiveness that could lead him to frustration and anger when he didn't keep his feelings in check.  Like his mother, Luke was deeply compassionate – and while that trait often was his greatest strength, it could be turned against him when it transformed into fear for his loved ones or hatred of those who had harmed them, as it had after Ralli's death and when Danaé was threatened.  Now that Luke had achieved this greater self-awareness, he always remained vigilant of his emotions to ensure that he did not fail again. 

A short time before his Trials Luke had been assigned to a six-week rotation with the Republic Navy.  Deployed with Rogue Squadron at the front, Luke had participated in nearly continuous combat operations that proved to be the greatest test of his willpower as a Jedi since Gimna 3.  In the frantic dogfights that were starfighter combat, it was far too easy to allow emotions like impatience and frustration and rage to come to the fore.  But Luke had discovered that his newfound maturity was real, and he successfully had maintained his calm even in the worst skirmishes the Rogues had faced.  Contrary to all his expectations, Luke had finished the rotation feeling more confident in himself, and more ready for the Trials, than he'd ever felt in his life.  

In fact, he missed Rogue Squadron.  Flying with them was actually fun.  

Luke pushed those thoughts aside as he continued to pace slowly down the dimly lit corridor of Jabba's palace.  He wasn't here to have fun.  He was here to rescue Captain Solo – as quickly and easily as possible.  Although Luke still held serious reservations about his twin's commitment to the Navy officer, he'd promised her right after Gimna 3 that he would help her rescue Han, and not even for a second had he ever considered not keeping his pledge.  

If he could prevail here without violence, he intended to do so.  There was no reason for bloodshed – unless the Hutt forced his hand.  If that happened Luke would do what was necessary.  

And when the mission was over Luke would see Mara again.  

It had been two months since she'd infiltrated the palace in the role of a dancing girl.  They hadn't been able to speak a single word to one another for the entire time.  It was by far the longest period of silence between them in their whole lives.  Even at the heights of their sometimes vicious rivalries in the Temple they'd never gone more than a few days without speaking – if just to hurl more insults.  And since they'd first felt the stirrings of something more than friendship after Xixus and the Battle of the Trade Spine a year and a half earlier, they'd talked all the time.  Constantly.  Even after Gimna 3, when Luke had told Mara he wasn't ready to seek the Jedi Council's approval for their attachment until after they gained their Knighthoods, their closeness had hardly suffered.  Mara had been deeply hurt for a few weeks, but she'd never really withdrawn from him as he'd thought she might.  She never said it in words, but Luke knew why.  

Mara loved him.  

And Luke loved her.  He loved her so much it hurt.  

That thought terrified Luke more than anything in the universe. 

Because lately, being someone Luke loved wasn't exactly a good thing.  First Ralli had died, then Master Obi-Wan.  Bryon had almost died too, but somehow miraculously had lived.  Danaé had been forced to kill Oga Trill, who had fallen to the dark side and joined the Sith.  His twin had lost the man she loved to enemy capture.  His father had failed as a Jedi too, allowing his fear for his children to explode into raw hatred when he'd felt the pain all four of them had suffered on Gimna 3.  His mother had been heartbroken by his father's betrayal, and although she'd quickly found the strength to forgive him and now seemed to cling to him for support more tightly than ever, Luke knew the dangers of the war for her children and the terrible burdens of the office of Supreme Chancellor were wearing down her spirit with crushing weight.  And of course his father's unexpected failure had horrified Mara beyond comprehension, leaving her devastated in a way Luke had never imagined possible. 

Sometimes it seemed as if his entire family was cursed.  That maybe the Force wasn't with them after all, but against them.  

So how could Luke possibly let Mara love him?  In a sense she'd been a part of their family since his father had taken her as his Padawan.  She'd always been welcome at the residence and joined in most family gatherings.  Yet she wasn't a Skywalker, and now she was a Jedi Knight and not even a Skywalker apprentice.  Maybe now she would be free from their curse.  Maybe now she wouldn't be doomed to a life of pain like the rest of them.  Maybe now the best thing for Mara would be freedom from the Skywalkers.  So how could he let her love him? 

But she did love him and he loved her too.  He couldn't deny that.  In fact, deep down inside – in that hidden place where Luke kept the feelings he pretended he didn't really feel – he wanted to marry her.  That part of him wanted to ask her as soon as this mission was over.  He knew she would say yes.  But his rational side reminded him of the horrible truth – that being a Skywalker was a curse, and he loved her too much to let her bear that burden, even if she would do so willingly.  He couldn't let her love him – it was too dangerous.  

Sensing the presence in the Force, Luke stopped walking and lifted his gaze up from the floor to see a tall, pale-skinned male Twi'lek blocking his path.  

---

The sporadic firefights in the corridors of the Xixus military headquarters building had been intense, but Bryon's forty Special Forces troopers had prevailed easily.  Although the enemy soldiers they'd encountered had worn the distinctive tan body armor and green fatigues of the brownshirts, their opponents certainly hadn't fought with the deadly precision of Argis' best legions.  Either the despot was reaching the dregs of his armies or regulars had been dressed up in the elite armor in the hopes of achieving some psychological effect.  Or perhaps the Vyhrragians already had withdrawn their top units from the planet and had left the weaker ones behind to die.  

Bryon didn't really care.  All that mattered was that everything was going according to plan, and their victory on Xixus was nearly achieved.  

Bryon and his soldiers rounded another corner to see a massive blast door sealing their path.  "We're here?"

"Yes, sir," said Kessa Brittin from just behind his shoulder.  His personal aide for over a year now, the timid sergeant finally had stopped being intimidated by his mere presence.  "We've reached the command center," she confirmed, holding her datapad up for him to see.  "It's on the other side of the door."

Bryon glanced down at the screen and nodded.  "Crossfire formation," he ordered in case the enemy chose to open the door on their own.  Then he turned to his left.  "Slice us in, Corporal."

"Yes, sir," the young man saluted.  He rushed forward along the wall, relying on the rest of them to cover him.  He quickly plugged his small datapad into the wall panel and began working at it with practiced speed.  After only a few seconds he turned back to Bryon and nodded.  

"Attack formation," Bryon directed, waving his hand to send two columns of black-armored soldiers toward the blast door.  They set up flush to the wall with their blaster rifles aiming inside.  "We want to take the room intact if we can," he reminded them.  "Try not to hit the equipment."

His soldiers nodded their heads and waited for his order.  

Bryon paused for a moment to consider his mental countdown.  He was ahead of pace, but not by much.  No time to waste.  He met eyes with the slicer at the wall panel and nodded.  

The two halves of the blast door slid open with a hiss and an immediate storm of blaster fire erupted from his soldiers.  The screech of the laser bolts was deafening as volley after volley slammed into the room.  A few stray bolts of return fire escaped toward them through the haze of the skirmish, but none of the shots came close to any of Bryon's troops.  

"Take control," Bryon ordered over the comlink.  The soldiers in front crouched down and advanced into the command center, while those in the rear kept their rifles aimed to provide cover fire if necessary.   
But they met no opposition, and soon Bryon strode triumphantly into the spacious room.  About twenty corpses littered the floor, brownshirts and Vyhrragian generals alike.  A large semicircular console with eleven chairs faced the far wall, which was covered floor to ceiling with a multitude of viewscreen images of the fallen defenses of the planet and city.  Across the room was another sealed blast door, and along the walls were stations with all manner of command, control, and communications equipment.  And his troops had managed to avoid damaging any of it.  

"Well done, everyone," Bryon said, tugging off his helmet and setting it atop the console.  His subordinates saluted or nodded as they went about the work of securing the room, shifting the computers to the Republic's command frequencies, and removing the slain enemies.  

With his helmet tucked in his elbow, Will Graff arrived at Bryon's side.  "That was almost too easy."

Bryon shook his head.  "There's no such thing as too easy."

"Right," Will nodded.  

"What?  You've got a bad feeling about something?"

"No," Will said.  "I just expected more resistance."

"So did I," Bryon agreed.  "But we don't have a surrender yet, either."

"True."

Just then Bryon's mental countdown reached zero.  "Hold on a sec," he said as he lowered himself into the chair at the center of the command console, leaned back, clasped his black-gloved hands behind his head, and propped up his booted feet on the edge of the console.  "Perfect."

Will furrowed his brow.  "What's going on?"

"Patience, my friend," Bryon smirked.  "Patience."

Exactly ten seconds later the other blast door to the command center opened with a squeal and a hiss, and half a dozen Special Forces soldiers swarmed inside with rifles at the ready.  "All clear," one of them called out.

A tall figure in the same black battle armor stepped through the open portal and tore off her helmet.  Cerule Starblaze's piercing blue eyes locked immediately on to Bryon's gleeful gaze as she shook out her damp, shoulder-length dark hair.  

"Impressive," she scowled.

"Why thank you, Major," Bryon grinned.  "How wonderful of you to join us."  

---****

Danaé paused next to a fountain on the broad stone plaza.  The whooshing of the water rising four meters into the air and the splashing of the droplets falling back down into the pool filled her ears as she gazed at the building in front of her.  Built from the same gray stone as the plaza, six columns marked the formal façade of the structure.  It was an imposing piece of architecture in its own right.  Which was no doubt the point, considering this was the headquarters building for the planetary government of Gimna 3.  But that was not what gave Danaé pause.  

This was the plaza where her father had succumbed to the dark side and had used its power to slay his enemies.  

Where Mara's respect – love – for her Master had been sundered.  

This was the building where Luke had lost his hand after feeling the dark side's temptations too.

Where Master Kenobi had been murdered by the Sith Master.  

Where Danaé had found her missing former Master, Oga Trill, for the first time in a year. 

Where she had learned that Oga had fallen to the dark side and become a Sith.

Where she had killed him.  

This was where everything had changed for her family – forever. 

Danaé closed her eyes and opened herself to the living Force, letting its soothing currents wash over her and calm her troubled memories.  All around her now the plaza was teeming with life – human, aliens, birds, insects, fish in the fountain pools, small rodents in the trees, and much more.  If she probed more deeply into the emanations of the plaza, she would be able to detect the lingering pain of the lives that had been lost here, lost to lightsabers and to the dark side's power.  But Danaé did not need to feel that pain to remember.  So she didn't.  

After a long moment Danaé opened her eyes again and smoothed the creases from the jacket of the crisp green uniform she wore.  Her fingers reached back to the tight bun on the back of her head and confirmed that the hairdo was holding in place just fine.  And very subtly she squeezed her left arm to her torso for the reassuring feeling of her lightsaber hanging in its holster along her side.  With a final deep breath she marched purposefully across the plaza toward the massive iron doors of the government building.  

It didn't take her long to find the Ministry of Commerce on the third floor.  Putting on her best bureaucrat's face she charged into the reception area.  

"I'm Special Agent Binoke of the Republic Judicial Department, Agricultural Safety and Inspection Division," she announced in a gruff voice as she flashed her credentials to the flustered young man at the desk.  "We have reason to believe a contaminated cargo has recently departed the planet.  I need you give me all the information you can about the shipping container listed on this datacard."

The startled young man took the datacard from her outstretched hand and slid it into the computer console at his desk.  "Of course, Agent Binoke," he said.  "Let me see what I can do for you."

Danaé crossed her arms over her chest and glowered down at the young man.  The poor civil servant was completely intimidated by her authority and demeanor.  With a wry smile to herself Danaé decided she enjoyed this part of her investigation missions as a Jedi.  This personality wasn't at all what she was really like – but it was interesting to pretend now and then.  

Actually, it was kind of fun.  

"Here we go," the young man gulped, still totally flustered.  "I'll have the information copied to your card in just a moment."

"Thank you," Danaé said with a clear tone of surprise.  "You're the most competent person I've dealt with all day."

---

"Jabba will have no visitors," Bib Fortuna said in heavily accented Basic.  "You must go."

Luke slid his hands from the sleeves of his robes and interlinked his fingers.  "I have traveled a great distance to see the mighty Jabba," he replied quietly.  "I only wish to see him for a few moments."

"No," the Hutt's majordomo said.  "You must go."

Luke frowned.  "Your master will be disappointed to have missed me."

"I'm sorry, but Jabba sees no visitors," Fortuna insisted.  "It's time for you to go."

Luke skipped his right hand through the air.  "You will take me to Jabba now."

Fortuna blinked.  "I'll take you to Jabba now."

"I am Jedi Knight Luke Skywalker.  I must be allowed to speak."

"Yes.  You must be allowed to speak."

Luke's hand skipped a final time.  "Lead the way, and I'll follow."

"I'll lead," Fortuna said, gesturing Luke along the hallway, "and you'll follow."

Luke interlinked his fingers again.  "You serve your master well, and you will be rewarded." 

Fortuna led him straight to Jabba's throne room.  As they walked down the last steps in the stairwell and passed through the stone arch into the room, Luke scanned the chamber with his eyes and the Force.  

The darkened edges of the room were filled with all manner of unsavory-looking individuals – gangsters, bounty hunters, mercenaries, and criminals.  The center of the room was illuminated, and in the circle of light a young, red-skinned Twi'lek girl was dancing seductively to the naughty melody played by the band.  Fortuna waved his hand to indicate Luke should proceed ahead into the room, and the Twi'lek strode eagerly toward Jabba's throne.  

Luke paced out into the lighted circle.  Immediately the crowd rumbled with surprise, the band stopped playing, and the girl stopped dancing.  He smiled warmly to her as she frantically backed away into the crowd.  

Then Luke turned to face the dais and brushed the hood of his cloak back off his head. 

The massive Hutt took up most of the space on the dais.  Within his easy reach were a hookah pipe, a tank of amphibian lifeforms, and a small, hideous Kowakian monkey-lizard that seemed to be some kind of sidekick.  Several bodyguards stood nearby, their hands already on the handles of their holstered blasters.  A silver protocol droid stood behind the dais, probably hoping he wouldn't be noticed – that's what Threepio would be thinking, anyway.  And approaching to speak to the Hutt was the easily persuaded majordomo.  

In the Force Luke could sense two familiar presences behind him.  On the left Lando was cool and calm, ready for action with all the iron will and firm dedication Luke expected from the Navy Special Operations Division commando.  That confidence was practically infectious, and Luke barely suppressed his smile.  His twin sister was on the right, readying her weapon and trying in vain to be patient.  Leia's sense of enthusiasm – and unrestrained longing – was equally palpable.  And Luke couldn't blame her one bit.  He now felt exactly the same way. 

Because on the other end of the dais, where the Hutt's long tail was curled, sat Mara.  She was dangling her legs over the edge and had her arms planted back.  Combined with her astoundingly skimpy attire and dyed ink-black hair, the pose took his breath away.  Although he knew full well she would despise this appearance with every fiber of her being, he also knew for a fact she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.  Mara must have picked up on his reaction to seeing her this way, because her green eyes sparkled deviously when they met his gaze – and then she grinned wickedly and licked her lips.  Luke's heart skipped a beat, and it took all the willpower he'd ever mustered in his life to keep his concentration on the mission at hand. 

Just then Fortuna finally reached the Hutt's side, but he never got a chance to explain himself. 

"What is the meaning of this?" roared Jabba in Huttese.  The small device Luke wore behind his right ear fed the translation into his tiny earpiece. 

"This is Jedi Knight Luke Skywalker," Fortuna said in Basic.  "He must be allowed to speak."

"You weak-minded fool!"  Jabba backhanded his majordomo across the face.  "He's using a Jedi mind trick." 

"I am Luke Skwalker, Jedi Knight and friend of Captain Solo," said Luke easily.  "I've come to bargain with you for his release.  I'm sure we can reach an arrangement that is mutually beneficial." 

Jabba laughed.  "There will be no bargain.  I like Captain Solo where he is – rotting in my jail."

"I'm willing to make you a very generous offer," Luke said after the briefest of pauses it took for the translation device to finish.  "You will profit greatly from it."

"No bargain," Jabba repeated.  "Captain Solo is not for sale."

Luke skipped his right hand in the air.  "You will bring Captain Solo and the Wookiee to me."

The Hutt laughed again.  "Your Jedi mind powers won't work on me, boy."

Luke shrugged.  It'd been worth a shot.  "I ask you to reconsider.  I will leave with Captain Solo one way or another.  You would be wise to avoid a confrontation with me."

"I've had Jedi Knights killed since before you were born," Jabba snarled.  "And I'm more than willing to do it again in this case."

"You cannot win, Jabba," Luke responded with perfect calmness.  

"You are too sure of yourself, Skywalker," Jabba said as the gathered minions around the other three sides of the room began to chuckle in anticipation.  "You are greatly outnumbered."

Luke only smiled.  "I don't think so.  I warn you not to underestimate my powers."

"It's your funeral," the Hutt chortled.  "I tire of this conversation, young Jedi.  Now go!"

Luke stood in place, but his smile became a frown.  He extended his hands outward in supplication.  "You are making an unwise decision, Jabba.  Release Captain Solo and the Wookiee to me now, or I will be forced to act." 

"I said you're dismissed.  Get out of my sight!"  The murmur of excitement among the throng of criminals was noticeably louder.  

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Then, boy," Jabba shouted, "I shall enjoy watching you die."  The Hutt slammed his hand down on the armrest of his dais and triggered the trapdoor directly beneath Luke's feet. 

Luke did not fall.  

During the colloquy with the crime lord Mara had sent him a mental image of the trapdoor to the rancor pit, and the Force had told him Jabba's intention the instant before the Hutt had acted.  That was all the warning Luke had needed to use the Force to brace himself from the ceiling and floor so that he would levitate in place.  When the stone floor gave way beneath his feet he stayed exactly where he was.  

After the split-second shock wore off exclamations of surprise exploded throughout the chamber.

"You should have bargained, Jabba," Luke said when the noise quieted a bit.  He took a single long stride backward, away from the pit opened by the trapdoor and onto the solid stone floor of the throne room.  At that sight and his words the room suddenly became deathly quiet.  "That's the last mistake you'll ever make."

Jabba flailed his arms in outrage.  "Guards!  Seize him!"

His hands still extended outward, Luke frowned regretfully and flicked his wrists.  Faster than the blink of an eye a pair of shining silver lightsaber handles launched out of his sleeves and into his palms from spring-loaded holsters on his forearms.  Luke immediately activated the weapon in his right hand; in the stunned silence of the throne room the turquoise laser sword's snap-hiss was deafening.  Simultaneously Luke tossed the other weapon toward the dais. 

An audible gasp echoed in the room as the dancing girl Arica sprang to her feet atop the dais, extended her arm straight outward, and snatched the weapon into her palm.  A violet laser sword ignited above her head – and a triumphant, chilling laugh erupted from her throat. 

Then the blaster bolts began to fly.  

---****

Padmé stopped in the corridor and turned to her companions.  "How do I look?"

"You look fine," Jenny insisted.  "Really."

Padmé glanced at Sabé and Sarré, who both nodded.  Behind them Jar Jar flashed her a wide grin and a very enthusiastic thumbs-up signal – and Padmé couldn't help but smile.  "Something doesn't feel right, though," she said.  "I just can't put my finger on it."

Sabé quirked a thoughtful frown.  "What message are you trying to send them?"

Padmé ran her hands down the bodice of her formal royal-purple gown.  "That I'm through with the politicking and the deal-making.  That we need to act and act now."

"Take down your hair," Sarré said into the silence in the hallway.  

Padmé blinked.  "What's that?"

"Take down your hair.  Time to cut the pageantry and get to work."

Padmé crushed her hands to the sides of her daughter-in-law's face and kissed Sarré triumphantly on the forehead.  "You, my dear, are a genius." 

"I have my moments," Sarré winked.  

With Jenny and Sabé helping, it took less than a minute to remove the pins and clasps holding Padmé's elegant hairstyle in place.  Then she ran her fingers through her tresses a few times until the long curls of brown streaked with gray hung loose around her shoulders.  She propped her hands on her hips and smiled.  "How's this?"

"Perfect," Jenny and Sabé said simultaneously.  

"Right.  I can take a hint," Padmé chuckled, turning on her heel and striding quickly toward the conference room.  

She marched inside with her four friends on her heels and stopped at the head of the long rectangular conference table.  Seated along its sides were twenty leading Senators, the chairs of the principal caucuses of delegates in the Republic's legislature.  Some, including Firren of Sullust and Dirxon of Ralltiir, she counted as solid supporters.  Others, such as Rylla of Ryloth and Mothma of Chandrila, were ambivalent at best about expanding the war effort.  And a few, like Breena of Rodia and Zuusch of Froz, were hardly allies at all.  But if Padmé was to break the stalemate in the Senate, she would have to start by achieving a consensus here. 

"Thank you all for coming," Padmé said.  "Let's get started."

She did not sit down.  

"The progress of the war is unacceptable," she began.  "We are gradually driving Argis back, but our commanders are greatly hampered by the Senate's unwillingness to allow the deployment of regional and sector fleets to the front.  In our overall forces we have a tremendous superiority in numbers of personnel and warships.  In the theater of war, by contrast, Argis' armada is nearly equal to ours.  It will take far too long to prevail in these conditions.  We simply must authorize a significant increase in our forces at the front.  Those temporary redeployments will enable us to win a swift victory, and finally end this menace once and for all." 

"But we take a great risk doing so," said Breena in her heavily accented Basic.  "It leaves many sectors of the Republic vulnerable to the enemy's strike forces." 

"It is a risk we must take," Padmé said.  "We must evaluate the war not only in the short term, but in the long term as well.  Shifting warships to the front will leave the interior exposed – I concede that.  But we also will win the war much faster.  So while there will be an increase in enemy attacks on systems outside the theater of war, those attacks will last for a much shorter interval than if victory is delayed by our current strategy.  Accordingly, there will be far fewer total attacks before the war is won – and even now we cannot prevent most of the assaults by Argis' strike forces."

"But that is true only for the Republic as a whole," Mon Mothma pointed out.  "Those sectors whose fleets are sent to the front will be the ones who are attacked precisely because of their weakness.  Sitting here now, not knowing which systems will be affected by this strategy, we can take the broader view.  But once the deployment decisions are actually made, we cannot expect those Senators to stand idly by in the face of imminent danger – perhaps imminent catastrophe – in their home systems."

"And that is why the policy must be adopted now," Padmé hissed.  "War requires sacrifice.  The entire Republic has suffered already.  If we do not win the war with haste, the entire Republic will suffer even further.  And some systems already have paid a heavy price; how quickly we forget the devastation of Alderaan, only a year ago.  So long as the war continues, no system is safe.  No world is secure.  You know as well as I that many other planets will be attacked before this war ends.  And while that is a tragic truth, we in the Senate have an obligation to make the difficult decisions that cannot be avoided.  We _must_ give our commanders the ability to win this war quickly.  Otherwise the consequences will be worse for us all than if we do not."

"Yet you cannot dispute that the consequences will be even worse for those systems we fail to protect in the meantime," Zuusch exclaimed.  

"We cannot protect everyone now," Dirxon shot back.  "None of us is safe until Argis is defeated."

"But we are asking some of us to be far less safe than others," Zuusch growled.  "Who will choose?  Who will be accountable?"

"I will be accountable," Padmé said sharply.  "As I am for the entire course of the war."

"Perhaps," Zuusch said.  "But who will choose?  You?  The Senate?  Some faceless admiral in the fleet?"

"The military commanders are in the best position to assess the needs at the front and the risks of redeploying the various sector fleets," Padmé insisted.  "We cannot allow politics to influence into military strategy."

"A noble aim, Your Excellency," said Breena.  "But military strategy unquestionably influences politics – galactic, sector, and system.  To say that you are accountable for the commanders' decisions is not all that is relevant."

After nearly an hour of further debate and discussion Padmé could tell from the grimaces and frowns around the table that her hope of convincing even a bare majority of these prominent Senators to do what was necessary – if politically painful – was lost.  Her options were fewer and fewer each week, and this meeting had turned into one more crushing defeat.  At this rate she soon would have to take matters into her own hands.  Maybe they didn't believe she would do it.  Or maybe that's what they wanted, so she would be the only one to pay the political price.  

Padmé scowled at the gathered Senators and slammed her palms in frustration to the smooth, cool surface of the conference table.  "Very well," she said.  "I see that we will reach no agreement today.  Thank you for your time."

The Senators tipped their heads respectfully.  

"Good day to you all," she said.  "May the Force be with you."

Padmé spun on her heel and charged out into the corridor.  

Sabé's rapid footfalls caught up with her first.  "Padmé?  Are you all right?"

"I will be," she snarled.  "They want me to pay the price for this?  Fine.  But what they're forgetting is that I'll succeed.  And when I do, I'll get all the glory.  Let's see the looks on their faces then."

---

The two lightsabers igniting was Leia's cue.  She yanked her blaster pistol from its holster and immediately began to shoot out the lights.  Other blaster fire erupted around the room too – but of course that was aimed at the two young Jedi in front of Jabba's dais.  

With three more shots Leia destroyed the last of the lighting discs and plunged the room into a deep darkness; only a handful of burning torches on the walls and a few guards' glowlamps provided a bit of dim illumination.  Then she began to run toward the far wall to meet Lando.  

The crowd in the throne room was already panicking.  Shots rang out around her.  Screams of rage and agony pierced the air.  Gangsters ran past her in all directions, seeking any way to flee the sudden, deadly melee in the chamber.  Leia charged forward as best she could, shoving her way through the unruly mob. 

Suddenly a tall figure appeared in front of her with a blaster rifle pointed directly at her.  Instinctively she shot the man squarely in the chest with three shots, sending his body collapsing to the ground in a heap.  Leia surged forward in two long strides.  Slapping her pistol back into its holster she scooped up the fallen ruffian's blaster rifle and bounded ahead toward the meeting point.  

Lando was there when she arrived.  "Let's go," he said brusquely.  "This way."

Leia nodded and followed.  They burst through an open archway and into a side corridor, running at top speed.  A shot hit the wall at Lando's shoulder, sending chips of stone spraying into the air.  Without hesitation Leia spun around and gunned down the goon who'd fired on them.  She spun back around and rushed to catch up to Lando.  

"Nice shooting," he said.  Through the boars-tusk faceguard to his helmet she could see his impressed grin. 

"Thanks," she said, her voice muffled by the helmet of the Boushh disguise.  When Luke had arrived she'd turned off the Ubese translation device – any delay in her words could be fatal. 

They careened down a set of stone stairs three at a time and lunged into the guard station of the prison level.  In a flash Lando raised his blaster rifle to his shoulder and began firing on the six Gamorrean guards armed with vibroaxes.  Leia took aim at the pair of Rodians along the far wall, taking them out even before they had their weapons drawn.  Quickly she and Lando scanned the room to be sure there were no other guards, then ran down the narrow hallway of cells. 

"Which one?" asked Leia through her heavy breaths.  

"Here," Lando said, pulling up at a thick iron door with a flurry of footfalls.  "This one."

"Stand back," Leia ordered, aiming her rifle at the archaic metal lock.  She squeezed the trigger twice, annihilating the lock in shower of sparks and shards of metal.  

With a single long stride Lando planted his left foot and slammed a powerful roundhouse kick into the center of the door.  It creaked open on its hinges. 

For an instant Leia hesitated.  She was finally going to see Han again, and she didn't want to do it through a mask.  And she didn't want his first sight of her in a year to be this ugly disguise.  "Go," she said to Lando in her muffled voice.  "I'll be right behind you."

Lando looked at her quizzically, but obeyed.  

Leia took a deep breath to calm her racing heartbeat.  Then she ripped off her helmet and tossed it aside, and shook her head vigorously until her long brown hair cascaded down around her shoulders.  Finally satisfied with her appearance, she ran through the open portal and into the cell.

---

Luke danced his turquoise blade in a brilliant pattern of arcs to deflect away the first incoming blaster bolts from Jabba's minions.  Taking two strides away from the open hole to the rancor pit, he spun in a circle to slap away a few more shots.  

He extended his awareness in the Force into full combat mode.  The already frenzied chaos in the Hutt's throne room was no problem for him.  Sensing intentions before the actions were taken, he saw patterns in otherwise inexplicable decisions, swung his lightsaber into position to parry shots before they were fired, and began to determine how best to redirect bolts back at his enemies.  

On the dais Mara leaped into the air to avoid a swing of Jabba's thick tail.  She tucked into a double roll that brought her down again squarely on her feet about two meters away from Luke.  She flashed him a grin and continued to repel blaster fire with her blade.  

Above their heads the last lights flickered out, and in the Force Luke sensed Leia beginning her charge across the room to meet Lando.  Were he not so focused on the wild skirmish around him he might have sent her a wish of luck through the Force, but right now that would only distract them both.  Instead he snapped his wrists and sent a blaster bolt straight into the chest of one of Jabba's guards at the dais who was taking aim at Mara.  

As Luke continued to deflect the shots coming at him he noticed that a good number of the criminals and gangsters in the throne room were fleeing.  Loyalty to a crime lord only ran so far – usually as far as the next paycheck – and few of these hooligans were willing to risk their own hides for the Hutt's.  Luke smiled.  That was going to make their job a lot easier.  

Unfortunately the only access point to Jabba's prison level was a corridor off the throne room, down which Leia and Lando had just run.  That meant that he and Mara had to hold control of the chamber until those two could spring Han and Chewie from the cell and get back here.  Then the six of them would fight their way out of the palace to freedom.  

Even as many of the thugs fled, though, those remaining began to act with increasing coordination as they fired upon the two Jedi Knights.  It wasn't anything he and Mara couldn't handle, but it wasn't going to be easy either.  Not against this many, in such a confined space, when they hoped to take as few lives as possible.  

Luke's shimmering blue laser sword traced a looping arc through the air to slap away three more blaster shots.  Then he felt Mara's subtle push in his mind.  Without hesitation he opened his feelings to her, and instantly their minds fell into a deep, intense battle meld – a mental and spiritual union to which they had become increasingly accustomed.  His perceptions were hers and hers his, and together their awareness of the raging violence around them was uncannily precise. 

Mara thought it might be more effective to fight defensively for the moment, and the idea appeared in Luke's mind as clearly as if he'd thought of it himself.  And he knew his agreement registered in hers the same way, because he knew when it happened, because they were one. 

And then Mara was there physically too, back to back with him in the center of Jabba's throne room.  One Jedi Knight in robes and cloak, the other in a few swaths and wisps of fabric, their blades working in perfect harmony to form a shield of light around them.  They were a blinding dome of turquoise and violet, impervious to the onslaught being fired at them.  

"So," she said aloud, "you like my new look?"

He smiled innocently.  "New look?  I hadn't noticed."

"I bet," Mara scoffed.  "The clothes you can forget about, wiseguy.  It's the hair I'm thinking about keeping."

"In that case," Luke smirked, "I hate it.  The clothes were the part I liked."

The two lightsabers whirling and slashing around them, they shared a grin and a laugh.  It was good to be together again, they decided.  Very good indeed.  


	5. Chapter Four

**CHAPTER FOUR**

Han and Chewie sprang to their feet when they heard the blaster shots destroy the cell's lock.  They stayed against the back wall and waited, and a second later an enormous thump swung the door inward on its creaking hinges. 

"Calrissian Rescue Corp., at your service," Lando grinned as he strode into the cell. 

"Calris-who?  Never heard of him," Han said.  "Any idea who that is, Chewie?"

The Wookiee shrugged and wroofed in agreement. 

"Very funny," Lando chuckled.  "Come on – no time to waste."

"When did you get so serious?" Han grumbled.  "How are we doing?"

"The same as always." 

"That bad, huh?  Where's Leia?"

"I'm here," she said, bounding through the open doorway to join them.  

Han's heart skipped a beat.  Leia was even more radiant than he'd remembered.  Her luscious brown locks framed her sparkling brown eyes and broad grin.  Her skinned glowed.  Even though she still wore an unflattering yellow armored outfit of a bounty hunter disguise, she looked like an angel.  And she was really here.  

Before Han could say anything Leia let her blaster rifle clatter to the floor and rushed into his arms.  "How are you?" she demanded in a hushed voice, her cheek pressed to his.  "Did they hurt you?"

"I'm fine, Princess," he whispered in her ear.  "I promise." 

She leaned back her face and looked deeply into his eyes.  "I missed you so much."

Han smiled.  There was something he'd been waiting a year to say.  "I love you, Leia."

She kissed him.  Hard.  

Han wondered if she was planning to let him breathe at some point.  

"I hate to interrupt this touching reunion," Lando said, "but there'll be time for this later."

Leia pressed harder, then pulled her lips away.  "He's right," she said.  "Luke and Mara are by themselves up there." 

"I doubt those two need my help any," Han chuckled, bending down to pick up her discarded blaster rifle. 

"Probably not," Leia winked, snatching her blaster pistol from its holster and motioning for him to keep the larger weapon. 

"Still, no reason to get on their bad side right away."

"Good idea."  

Lando and Chewie already were outside in the corridor waiting for them.  Han brushed his fingers along Leia's cheek and smiled.  "All right, Your Highness.  Let's get outta here."

Leia looked up at him and smiled back.  "After you, Captain."

---

The light of the two laser swords was nearly the only illumination in the darkened throne room as the two young Jedi defended against the barrage of blaster fire flying at them.  With Mara's back pressed to his, Luke whipped his turquoise blade in shimmering arcs to slap away the incoming shots. 

They were holding their own well enough for now, but when the others returned from the prison level the situation was going to be ugly if this many gangsters were still here.  And their opponents sure seemed confident. 

"They must have reinforcements on the way," Luke said quickly. 

"Probably," Mara hissed.  

"We need to change the odds, then."

"I agree."

Luke sent her a quick mental image of an effective strategy.  "On three?"

Mara nodded.  "Sure."  

"Okay," Luke said.  "One."

"Three," Mara smirked, surging away from him toward the hooligans firing on them from behind him. 

Luke laughed, and charged across the room in the opposite direction.  With Force-powered speed he reached the first group of enemies in an instant.  His blue lightsaber sliced off the barrels of two blaster rifles, and on the reverse arc repelled a shot straight back into the weapon that had fired it.  He lunged to the floor and tumbled away from the gangsters he'd just disarmed, springing up again three meters away in the midst of a different group of shooters.  

In his awareness he sensed that across the room Mara had decimated her first group of ruffians too.  She leaped through the air and landed at another bunch, kicking one criminal squarely in the chest as she chopped up the rifles of two others.  Through the battle meld he sensed her burst of satisfaction at their success so far. 

Two of the goons fired shots at point blank range, but a flick of Luke's wrists brought his blade across his body and deflected the laser blasts harmlessly away into the ceiling.  He swung back and sheared the weapons in half, then spun his body into a roundhouse kick that connected full in the face of another goon. 

A spike of his danger sense warned Luke that one of the thugs he'd fought seconds earlier had drawn a blaster pistol from a holster.  Instinctively Luke reacted, flicking his left hand outward.  The severed barrel of a heavy blaster rifle launched from the floor and flew the short distance to the criminal in a flash, smacking him right between the eyes and knocking him silly. 

The Force told Luke that the display of skill by the two Jedi Knights had crushed what little was left of the gangsters' morale.  The ones he and Mara already had disarmed had no intentions of fighting with their bare hands, and they were making hasty retreats through the room's exits.  Two groups of shooters remained, though, and those thugs hadn't stopped firing. 

_Not much time_, said Mara in his mind, because now they both could perceive two groups of reinforcements getting closer every second.  _Let's take them_.

Luke was already halfway to their attackers.  _Three_, he sent back.  

---

A subtle emanation of the dark side of the Force unwittingly discouraged anyone from paying any attention to the tall, dark-haired, dour-looking spacer in a booth in a dark corner of the Outlander nightclub in the depths of Coruscant.  Darth Barbarus sat with his back against the wall and his eyes scanning the crowd.  One hand held his drink; the other rested on the blaster on his hip and within an instant's reach of the holstered lightsaber on his thigh.  A more definitive use of his powers confirmed there were no Jedi in the club – not that they would be able to sense his presence anyway.  

Barbarus finished off his eyeblaster and tapped the table panel to order another.  Then his perceptions told him his contact had just entered through the front door.  Barbarus put his hands atop the table and waited.  

A few minutes later, after an ambling path that belied any intent to seek out this particular seat, the Devaronian slid into booth across the table.  "Good to see you, Vik," he said.  

"And you," Barbarus nodded.  "Any news?"

"Your mark will be back onworld tomorrow.  The activity in her office was clear enough, but I confirmed it through my sources too.  I should have a selection of target locations for you by the morning."

"Excellent work, my friend," Barbarus grinned wickedly.  He reached up a sleeve, slid his hand across the table with a short stack of aurodium coins palmed beneath it, and slipped the coins beside a plate of small avian bones from his eagerly devoured spicy swamphen wings.  "Always a pleasure doing business with you."

"With me you get what you pay for, Vik."  The Devaronian palmed the coins immediately and smiled back.  "See you tomorrow, regular spot."

"Agreed," Barbarus said with a tip of his head.  The Devaronian nodded, rose from his seat, and left by an equally circuitous route through the club.  Barbarus waited for the eyeblaster to arrive, chugged it down, and paid his tab.  Walking through the crowd toward the door, he smiled.  Everything was going according to plan.

---

Anakin stepped up onto the small circular balcony above their bedroom in the residence and reached Padmé in two long strides.  He wrapped his arms around her waist from behind and pulled the full length of her body against him.  She leaned back into him and nestled her head against his chest.  He gently rested his chin on the top of her head as she slid her cold hands into the sleeves of his thick plush bathrobe.  The chilly sensation combined with the brisk night wind ripping through his damp gray hair to send a shiver down his spine.  

"There was another attack tonight," she said softly.  "At Talus."

"I heard just as I was leaving the Temple," he said, kissing her soft curls.  "How bad was it?"

"On the low end, comparatively," she sighed.  "A team of saboteurs struck a shopping district with a series of bombs, then opened fire with snipers once the crowd began to panic.  They killed a few hundred before they were stopped by a CorSec squad."

"It could have been a lot worse," Anakin said.  "But the fact that we can even think that several hundred deaths is positive news shows just how bad the situation has become."

"Exactly," Padmé nodded beneath his chin.  "And the number of deaths isn't even the most significant.  It's the fact that it was another civilian target in the Core.  No world is safe.  No citizen can feel secure.  Fear.  It's the enemy's greatest weapon now.  Fear."

"I know," he nodded too.  "I can sense it in the Force.  The disturbances are growing stronger by the day, and the undercurrents are becoming more and more unsettled."

"We have to find some way to regain control of the situation, Ani," she whispered.  "I need a way to calm the public's fears.  And I need it soon.  The next attack could be worse.  Much worse.  We're only one calamity away from a real crisis.  It could lead to anarchy.  Or pure vengeance."

"I know, angel.  I'm sorry."

"I can feel it in the Senate, Ani.  Like you teach the Jedi, that fear leads to anger and hate.  The fear there is overwhelming.  All it will take is one terrible incident to set them off, and anger and hate will take over.  I can feel it.  We're on the verge of disaster, Ani.  We really are."

"I believe you," he said.  "This fear, it's everywhere.  It's pervasive in the Force.  The dark side feeds on it, and gains strength from it.  The Sith are on the move again.  I don't know where.  I don't know how.  But I'm certain of it."

She spun around in his arms and buried her face in his chest, nuzzling past his robe to rest her icy cheek on his warm bare skin and gripping his shoulders as if her life depended on it.  "What can we do, Ani?  _Is_ there anything we can do?" 

He tightened his embrace as lovingly as he could.  "I think we have to do our duty, and trust in the Force."

"And is it my duty to order Victory Strike?"

"You should do what you think is right."

Padmé swallowed hard, and he felt the trickle of a few hot tears running down the skin of his chest.  "What do you think, Ani?  What would you do, if it were your decision?"

For a moment Anakin closed his eyes and opened himself to the Force.  As he expected it told him nothing new about the future, which was as unpredictably in motion as ever.  But he could sense clearly Padmé's painful yearning for his advice – his guidance – his support – his love.  So he told her the truth.  "I have faith in Bryon," he said quietly.  "I would order the attack."

"I think I'll have to," she admitted.  "I'm just so worried."

"I'm worried too," he said.  "But all the alternatives are worse."

She wiped her damp cheeks on his chest.  "I know.  I agree."

He brushed his fingers through her hair, then cupped her chin in a palm and looked deeply into her sorrowful brown eyes.  "I take it the meeting with the caucus chairs didn't go well?"

"That's an understatement," she hissed.  "They're forcing my hand.  I think they're doing it on purpose."

He compressed his lips to a thin line in contemplation.  "They could be." 

She slipped her hands inside his robe and began to caress his back.  "I feel like everything's out of control, Ani.  The Senate.  The war.  Like it's all hopeless.  I feel like I'm drowning."

"Then hold on to me, angel," he said, kissing her forehead.  "Hold on to me, and I'll be your anchor."

She laughed.  "Anchors _sink_, Ani."

"Oh, right," he laughed too.  "So it wasn't the best metaphor for saving a drowning person.  It's late and I'm tired.  I grew up in the desert.  Give me a break."

"Okay," Padmé smiled.  "I'll let it slide this time."

Anakin grinned mischievously.  "You know, there _is_ one thing over which you still have complete power."

She raised her eyebrows.  "Oh, really?  And what's that?"

He tipped his head toward the stairs.  "Follow me, and I'll show you."

---****

It didn't take more than a few seconds for the two Jedi Knights to defeat the last groups of gangsters in the throne room.  The hooligans and their blaster rifles were no match for the shimmering laser swords.  Rapid slices and arcs sundered the metal weapons and gave the Jedi total control of the room.  A few of the ruffians drew vibroblades or backup blasters, and those opponents lost their lives in the hectic melee.  Nonetheless in the two minutes of intense combat the pair of Jedi had defeated nearly thirty enemies – and had killed only five. 

Mara spun on her heel and swung her violet blade to the ready.  "What now?"

Two long strides brought Luke to her side.  "Leia's almost back," he said, waving the tip of his blade toward the escape corridor.  "With them to help I can handle the group that way." 

Mara stretched her feelings out into the Force.  The group of gangsters approaching from that direction was larger, but he'd have four blasters with him too.  The smaller group about to enter the other side of the throne room she could handle herself.  "Agreed," she said.  "I'll clear this bunch off our backs and catch up with you."

"Right," Luke nodded, turning to go. 

"Wait."

"What is it?"

"Give me your cloak," Mara said. 

He didn't even question her.  Luke simply unlatched the clasp and with his free hand swung the billowing indigo garment into the air to wrap it around her shoulders.

"Thanks," Mara said, latching the clasp at the base of her throat. 

"Be safe," he said.  

"I will," she promised.  Impulsively Mara leaned in and kissed him firmly on the lips before they ran off in opposite directions. 

---

Han ran after Lando and Chewie into the guard station of the prison level.  A squad of four armored Gamorrean guards were waiting for them with vibroaxes ready.  Han opened fire without hesitation, gunning down a pair of the rotund green aliens as Lando took out the others.  

"That's all of them," Leia said from behind him.  "We're clear."

Han had glanced rapidly around the room too.  "Hold on a sec," he said.  

Leia rushed to his side.  "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he replied.  "I just want to get us fully armed."

Han tossed the blaster rifle to Chewie, who hefted it in his hands and wroofed his approval.  Then Han bent down to the pair of Rodian corpses against the wall and grabbed the two blaster pistols lying on the floor.  Stuffing them under an arm, he snatched up the six power packs from the bodies' utility belts.  He didn't have a belt or pockets with his drab gray prison garb, so he passed the power packs to Lando.  Taking the pistols in his hands again, Han finally felt ready.  "Okay, let's go."

Once again Lando and Chewie led the way as the quartet charged up the stairs.  They emerged into a narrow corridor and surged down it at top speed.  Han glanced over at Leia to see her long brown hair whipping wildly behind her as they ran along.  She really was beautiful – even drenched in sweat and dressed for combat.  

Suddenly a group of the Hutt's gangsters rounded the corner ahead of them.  Exclamations of surprise and outrage preceded an onslaught of blaster fire.  

Han ducked to the ground and opened fire with both pistols at once.  Leia dropped to a knee at his side and was shooting at the new arrivals too.  Chewie roared an ominous Wookiee war cry and charged directly at their opponents with Lando on his heels.  

In a matter of seconds it was all over.  

Han sprang to his feet, tucked a pistol under his arm, and offered his hand to Leia.  "You okay, Princess?"

"I'm great," she grinned, gripping his hand tightly and pulling herself upright. 

He reached out and brushed stray lock of hair off her face, then took his pistol in his hand again.  "How much farther to go?"

"Too much," she grumbled as they began to run along the corridor.  "We're almost to the throne room, but it's a maze to get out from there."

"To be fair, the building was designed as a fortress," Lando said from just ahead of them.  "This won't be easy."

"Let's speed it up, then," Han said.  "I'm sick of this place."

Leia put a hand on his arm.  "We'll be out soon.  I promise." 

Before he could respond they burst out into the throne room to see Luke waiting for them.  

"Hey, Han," smiled Leia's twin, his turquoise laser sword casting a dim glow on his face and dark Jedi robes.  "It's great to see you."

"It's great to see you too, kid," Han nodded.  "Now use those Jedi powers of yours and get me out of here."

Luke laughed.  "You can still shoot, right?"

"Of course," Han said with a lopsided grin.  "And fly too."

"Then we're all set," Luke said.  "Follow me."

---

Luke led the four others out of the throne room and into another dark, narrow hallway.  Heading away from the main entrance to the palace, they ran toward the escape point that had been selected long ago.  

Extending his perceptions in the Force, Luke scanned the passage ahead for the group of gangsters he knew was there.  Sure enough, the enemies were still rushing toward them, too late to intervene in the battle in the throne room but an obstacle to their escape all the same.  

"Everybody stay sharp," he said.  "We've got a fight ahead of us."

"How many?" Leia asked from behind him.  

Twenty, give or take.  "Enough to make it interesting," he replied.  

"Gotta love a Jedi," Han chuckled.  "Never give a straight answer when you can give a philosophical one."

"It could be worse," Lando pointed out.  "He could've said too many for us to get out alive."

Luke laughed.  "Not that many, I don't think."

"You don't _think_?"  Apparently Han was not amused. 

Luke glanced back over his shoulder.  "Never give a straight answer when you can give a vague one."

Han whistled approvingly.  "The Jedi teach you that too?"

"Nope," Luke smirked.  "That's a politician's credo."

"Hey!" Leia exclaimed.  

"Sorry, sis, no time to discuss it," Luke said quickly as he rounded the corner.  "We're here!  Open fire!"

---

Mara wrapped the indigo cloak around her body and pulled up the hood over her head.  Ducking flush against the wall next to the stone archway leading to the corridor, she waited for the group of gangsters to charge all the way into the empty throne room.  

Then she ignited her violet blade and rushed them.  

The whirling specter of cloak and light scattered their military formation, cut their weapons to pieces, and landed powerful kicks of bare feet or smacked them on their helmeted heads with the metal end of the laser sword's handle.  In a matter of seconds the eight ruffians lay sprawled unconscious on the floor.  

Mara stood in place, deactivated her lightsaber, and closed her eyes.  She took a series of deep breaths to clear her thoughts and slow her racing heartbeat.  Tugging the cloak around her body again, she was about to head down the escape corridor after Luke and the others when she noticed a dim glow along the back wall of the chamber.  

She paced over to see that a secret passageway had been opened behind the Hutt's stone dais.  And on the floor, heading off down the gloomy corridor, was a telltale trail of slime.  Only then did Mara finally make the connection that Jabba had disappeared during the furious melee in the throne room.  

For a brief moment Mara hesitated.  

She could do her duty and go to the others.  Or she could take a slight detour and catch up with them soon enough.  It would be really quick.  They wouldn't even notice.  She'd never have this opportunity again.  And even Leia had said that sometimes a special case warranted an exception.

_What'll it hurt, just this once?_ she thought to herself.  _For Oola… And me…_

Mara narrowed her eyes in determination and took off down the secret passage after Jabba the Hutt.

---

Bryon stripped off his gloves and ran his fingers a few times through his damp, short brown hair.  "Have all units checked in?"

From his position at the center of the command console Will Graff saluted an affirmation.  "Aurora Two through Ten all clear." 

Bryon interlinked his fingers and cracked his knuckles.  "The city is ours." 

From a communications station along the wall of the command center Cerule Starblaze turned to face him.  "Renegade Flight standing by." 

"Very good," Bryon nodded.  "And the transmission feed to the capitol building?"

"Ready when you are, sir," said Kessa from his side.  

"Excellent," Bryon smiled, taking a deep breath and calming his nerves.  "Major Graff, Major Starblaze," he said in a formal tone, "I request the honor of your presence as I negotiate the formal surrender of the Xixus system to the Army of the Republic."

"Yes, sir," they saluted simultaneously, striding over quickly to stand at his shoulders.  

Bryon turned to face the viewscreen communicator station Kessa was indicating, squared his shoulders, and stood tall to his full imposing height.  After a few seconds the screen resolved into an image of a conference table with well-dressed dignitaries and uniformed generals along its sides and a pompously attired sycophant at its head.  

"This is Colonel Bryon Skywalker of the Army of the Republic," he said in his best deep, booming, authoritative voice.  "I am prepared to accept your unconditional surrender." 

"We will not surrender to you," the leader hissed.  

"Your fleet has abandoned the system, your starfighters and gunships are beaten, your troops have been vanquished in the streets, and I have control of your military command center.  How exactly do you plan to oppose me?"

"We will not surrender," the Vyhrragian repeated. 

"One more chance," Bryon warned.  "I demand an unconditional surrender to the Republic." 

"Not a chance," the leader spat.  

Bryon crossed his armored arms over the front of his black chestplate.  "Surrender," he said in his darkest, most chilling voice, "or be destroyed."

"You're bluffing," the Vyhrragian in charge scoffed.  "You wouldn't dare."

"My reputation precedes me," Bryon said grimly, "and I doubt your colleagues are as oblivious as you."  He glanced quickly over his shoulder.  "Renegade Flight, a demonstration for our friends, please." 

Bryon looked back at the viewscreen and waited.  A few heartbeats later the image on the screen shook and a tremendous roar blared over the audio channel.  "If you look out your window," Bryon said when the explosion quieted and the image stilled, "you will see that the east wing of your building is now gone.  I am more than happy to have my starfighter comrades finish the job." 

The Vyhrragian leader was trembling where he stood at the table's head.  "That will not be necessary, Colonel."

Bryon did not say a word, but only stood impassively with his arms crossed.  

"We hereby surrender the Xixus system unconditionally to the Army of the Republic," the leader said.  "Our remaining troops onplanet and insystem will be given the order at once."

"Very well," Bryon replied coolly.  "Your unconditional surrender is accepted.  My men will be there momentarily to take you into custody."  

"Understood, Colonel," the quivering man scowled.  

"Pleasure doing business with you," Bryon said, chopping his hand to signal to Kessa that the conversation was at an end.  The viewscreen cut away to static and he turned to face his friends.  "So?"

Cerule Starblaze raised her eyebrows.  "I wouldn't exactly call that negotiating."

Bryon smirked.  "Just think of it as _aggressive_ negotiations."

She only shook her head.  "And who instructed you on these… 'unconventional' techniques?"

"His parents," Will interjected before Bryon could respond.  "If you ever meet them you'll understand."

---****

Plugged into the console and working diligently, Artoo was whistling contentedly to himself when Threepio stormed into the _Falcon_'s cockpit.  

"Artoo Detoo, what is the meaning of this?" the golden protocol droid demanded.  

Artoo spun his dome around a trilled a reply.  "I know you're preparing the ship for takeoff, you dithering bucket of bolts!  I simply want to know what you think you're doing."

The astromech blooped and beeped.  "Getting ready to finish the rescue mission?"  Threepio's voice was becoming more distressed by the second.  "What are you talking about?"

Artoo honked in frustration.  "Master Luke told you no such thing!" yelped Threepio.  "He'll have you deactivated for sure – if Captain Chewbacca doesn't tear you to pieces first."

Artoo razzed.  "Tear me to pieces?  Oh my!  Why would he do that?"

The astromech whistled in amusement.  "For not stopping you?"  Threepio banged his metal fingers on Artoo's dome.  "Why you little…  I'm quite sure Chewbacca knows perfectly well by now that when you get these crazy ideas into your circuits you can't be stopped.  He won't take this out on me, I assure you."

Artoo beeped and trilled.  "Sit down?  Oh dear!"  Threepio hauled himself into the chair behind the enormous Wookiee co-pilot's seat.  "And I suppose you're going to tell me next that I should strap in?"

Artoo blooped an affirmative.  "You know, when this is over I'm going to have a chat with Master Luke about your behavior," Threepio muttered.  "I think it's entirely inappropriate for him to give you this kind of authority."

Artoo razzed an indignant query.  "Why?  Because you're entirely untrustworthy, that's why.  If not simply mad!" 

Artoo honked.  "Coward?  I'm not a coward," the protocol droid insisted.  "I've been through just as many…"

The rest of Threepio's complaint was lost in his frantic wail of impending doom as the _Falcon_ lifted from the ground, soared out of the dark cave, and launched away at high speed into the blindingly bright desert sky.  

---

Leia followed Luke around the corner of the corridor and saw a large group of gangsters rushing toward them with blasters firing.  Her twin's shimmering turquoise laser sword spun a dazzling circle of light in the air to deflect away the incoming shots. 

Instantly Leia dropped into a firing crouch and took aim at their opponents.  Her first squeeze of the trigger took down a Nikto, and the second dropped a Devaronian.  She paused to target the next goon and fired again. 

From around her a barrage of laser fire flew at their enemies.  Han, Lando, and Chewie had plenty of weapons training from the Navy, so when they combined those skills with their natural teamwork they formed quite a deadly combination. 

Luke maintained his glowing blue shield in front of them as they kept shooting.  By now half the gangsters already had fallen, and the shocked cries of the others echoed in the stone corridor even over the din of the raging skirmish.  Leia saw an opening between two Rodians and plugged a trio of bolts into the armored chest of another Nikto. 

A few seconds later the surviving hooligans turned around and fled back the way they had come, screaming at the tops of their lungs.  Leia assumed they were begging for mercy, but she couldn't be sure. 

She rose to her feet and looked up at Luke.  "Is that all of them?"

Her brother closed his eyes briefly.  "Yes," he said when he opened them again.  "For now.  But there are more ahead.  We'll have to fight again."

"We'll be ready," Leia nodded, turning to face the others.  "Let's go."

"You don't have to tell me twice," Han said.

Leia flashed him a smile and chased after Luke as he led them down the hallway at a dead run. 

---

Mara ran down the secret passageway as fast as she could.  She barely could see her way in the nearly total darkness of the narrow hallway, but her perceptions in the Force guided her unerringly along the stone floor.  It didn't take her long at all to sense the distinctive presence she was seeking, and with a few more long strides she emerged from the passageway into a small, dimly lit docking bay. 

The blast doors to the outside weren't opened yet, but the small star yacht had its engines running and the boarding ramp lowered to the ground.  So Jabba was fleeing like a coward.  Not that she'd expected any differently.

Mara was about to burst up the ramp and into the ship when her danger sense flared.  

Her violet blade already was ignited when she spun on her heel to see the hulking mass that was Jabba firing a blaster at her from across the hangar bay.  She deflected the three shots with ease, sending the laser bolts sailing away into the ceiling.  

"Nice try, Jabba," she hissed.  "But that won't be good enough."

The crime lord roared something in Huttese and opened fire again, squeezing off shot after shot at her.  Mara's lightsaber parried away the blaster bolts with hardly any exertion.  

"You don't listen, Jabba," she said coldly.  She extended her left hand in the air and flicked her wrist, wrenching the blaster from the Hutt's grip and yanking it toward her – and she sliced the weapon cleanly in two in midair when it arrived. 

Jabba rumbled in Huttese.  

"I can't understand you, you know," Mara said.  "And I'm not sure I care."

Jabba reached his hands down to the floor and struggled to raise an enormous bag in front of him.  He couldn't have gotten here this fast from the throne room if he'd been dragging that along with him, so he must have gone to retrieve it after warming up his escape vessel.  

The Hutt said something else to her.  Fear like that was obvious in any language.

"Yeah, it turns out I really don't care what you're saying," Mara replied as she scanned the docking bay in the Force to be sure no one else was present.  And her awareness told her that she and Jabba were alone.  Utterly selfish to the end, just like you'd expect of a Hutt.

Jabba reached into the bag and pulled out a thick ingot of glimmering aurodium.  Holding the massive, half-meter long bar of metal in his hand, Jabba extended it out to her. 

Mara snorted in disbelief.  "You're offering me a bribe?" 

Jabba said something frantic in Huttese, dropping the ingot to the floor with a deafening clang and retrieving another one from the sack. 

"You're trying to bribe me," Mara spat.  She couldn't believe it.  He couldn't really be trying this.  After everything horrible he'd done, after killing Oola for sport, after all the terrible things Mara had seen Jabba do in the two months she'd been here – after all that Jabba thought he could buy his way out of justice.

Mara wasn't about to let that happen. 

She shifted her blazing lightsaber to her left hand and strode quickly toward Jabba.  That only caused the Hutt to offer her more and more precious metals, as though that would placate her.  And each time another ingot clattered to the floor Mara's simmering hatred for Jabba grew hotter. 

"Stop," she barked when she halted a meter in front of the blubbering slug.  "You're only making it worse."

Jabba held up his hands and exclaimed something forlorn.  

Mara got the meaning clearly enough.  "There's nothing you can do," she whispered darkly.  "It's too late for you, Jabba.  Too late by far.  You made an enemy of the wrong dancing girl."

Jabba started to cry out in fear – only to have his voice strangled off.  

"Shut up, you worthless monster," Mara growled.  Her right hand was held out in front of her body with her fist clenched in midair as the Force crushed the hated Hutt's windpipe. 

She held her fist there, trembling in the air from the effects of her concentration, and watched the Hutt's arms flail, his eyes bug out, his tongue flap desperately from his mouth, and his body heave with convulsions.  A few more seconds and it was all suddenly over.  Jabba's body went limp and his presence in the Force whistled away into nothingness.   
  


Mara smiled victoriously.  

And just as suddenly a wave of pure terror washed over her.  _What have I done?_ she cried out in her mind as the reality of her action dawned on her.  _What have I done?_

Her knees wobbled beneath her.  Her stomach turned over.  Her heart began to pound.  She gasped for air.  This couldn't have happened.  She couldn't have just used the dark side to kill.  She hadn't meant to.  She knew better.  She was stronger than this.  _I'm so sorry,_ she sobbed, _I'm so sorry.  What have I done?_

But she knew.  She'd used the dark side to kill.  And worst of all, she'd enjoyed it. 

Her shock and dismay were interrupted by a gentle push in her mind.  It was Luke.  He was too preoccupied to send a thought in words, but the sensation was clear enough.  He was worried about her.  He'd sensed something was wrong and needed to know she was safe.  

_Oh, no,_ she sobbed again.  _The battle meld!  Does he know?  Could he tell?  Oh, no!  Luke!  No!  I'm so sorry!_  Mara spun on her heel and headed toward the others at top speed.  Somehow she managed to focus her mind enough to send back reassurance to Luke.  

Then she fled – from the docking bay, from Jabba's corpse, and from herself.  

---

Luke was in the lead as the group of five hurried down the stone corridor of Jabba's palace toward their escape point when a sudden spike of emotions lanced into his mind through the battle meld with Mara.  It felt like sorrow.  Desperation.  Panic.  Fear.  Anguish.  Terror.  

The unexpected sensation made him stumble.  In a flash Leia was at his side, gripping his arm.  "Luke?  What's wrong?  Are you all right?"

"Mara," he said, trying to collect his thoughts as he started running again.  "Something's wrong."

Leia hadn't let go.  "Is she injured?"

"I can't tell," he admitted.  He had to keep his awareness focused on the corridor ahead to make sure their group wasn't ambushed.  The best he could manage was a quick, anxious pulse to Mara.  Fortunately, she responded a second later with a clear – if shaken and distraught – reassurance.  "No, she isn't injured."

Leia squeezed his arm comfortingly.  "What, then?"

"I don't know," he said, unable to shake the awful feeling of distress from his mind.  "I don't know."

---

Danaé stood in the shadows of the corridor and checked over her latest disguise one last time.  The simple blue-and-white uniform of a starship maintenance technician was mundane enough.  Her boots were sufficiently scuffed and her hands adequately dirtied.  Her lightsaber was hidden away in one of the many long pockets of her trousers, within easy reach but fully concealed from even the most discerning eyes.  She would be as inconspicuous as humanly possible.  

After a slow, deep breath Danaé reached up and tucked her tight braid of long brown hair beneath the small cap.  Tugging its brim down to shield her eyes as she walked with her head bowed, she strode out of the gloomy corridor and into the wide hangar bay.  

The bustle of the crowded spaceport filled her ears as she made her way across the wide floor toward the harbormaster's offices on the far side.  The planet seemed to be recovering well from its recent recapture by the Republic – all manner of travel, trade, and negotiations were taking place around her.  It was a far cry from some worlds she had visited in the last several weeks, where the aftereffects of occupation and pillaging had devastated the local economy and populace.  Here at Gimna 3, by contrast, the citizens appeared eager to return to normalcy as quickly they could.  

Danaé ducked around the long wing of a large space transport vessel and headed inside the office door.  Reaching out with the Force, she scanned the crewers and pilots waiting at the service desks, the clerks and inspectors bickering with their patrons, and the trio of armed guards posted on the far wall.  No one noticed her as she slid through the crowd and slipped into one of the rear hallways of the office complex.  

Soon she reached the bank of computer terminals she was seeking.  Hunching over one nonchalantly, she plugged her small datapad into the socket and searched the harbormaster's records for her targeted ship.  The datapad whirred softly as it interfaced with the computer station.  

Then she sensed an inspector in a particularly foul mood approaching.  Danaé took a deep breath, cleared her mind, and waited for him to make the first move.  

"Hey," the man said as he arrived few paces away, "you're not allowed back here.  Let me see your access badge."

Danaé turned to face him, displaying the small badge on her chest.  "I'm cleared to be here."

"Yeah, that's what the code says," the man grumbled.  "But I'd better check on it just to be sure."  With one hand the man reached for his comlink – and the other settled on the handle of his blaster.  

Danaé's danger sense rocketed to full alert and for a moment her hand moved toward the pocket holding her lightsaber.  But just as quickly she pulled it back.  _Violence must be a last resort_, she told herself calmly.  And this man hadn't come close to attacking her.  At least not yet.  

But she couldn't afford for him to trigger any suspicion either.  "My badge is valid," she said as her hand skipped gently through the air.  "You have better things to do than worry about me."

"Your badge is valid," the man nodded.  "I have better things to do than worry about you."

The man hardly had turned around to depart before Danaé was hunched over her datapad and computer terminal again.  And sure enough, the search already was completed.  Just as she had feared, the ship had departed the port six hours earlier.  Her investigation had taken too long, and her chance to intercept the Vyhrragian agents before they could get away had been lost. 

As she reached down to her datapad to call up the ship's destination, a shiver ran down her spine.  Danaé closed her eyes, hoping against hope the screen would not read what she knew it would.  

But it did.  

"Oh, no," she gasped.  "No."  


	6. Chapter Five

**CHAPTER FIVE**

Luke's perceptions were on high alert as the group ran down the corridor of Jabba's palace.  "There's a docking bay ahead," he said over his shoulder to the others.  "We'll probably have to fight our way through it to get to the stairwell."

"How bad does it look?" Leia asked. 

"Shouldn't be too tough," he answered.  "We'll manage."

Han caught up to them.  "We're not just borrowing a ship and flying out?"

"No," Luke said quickly.  "We didn't think we could count on that, so we're going out another way.  The stairwell is right off the docking bay, and then we're out."

"Whatever works," Han said.  "The fun of this escape is starting to wear off."

"Tell me about it," Luke grumbled.  "Get ready.  We're almost there."

Han looked down at his blasters.  "Hey, Lando, how about a power pack?  This one's low."

While Han and Lando made the exchange, Luke stretched out his awareness in the Force to assess the skirmish to come.  The docking bay was large, and although there were several dozen gangsters and bounty hunters in there, the sense of anxiety and haste was prominent.  Clearly the rabble of Jabba's palace was as intent on making its exit as Luke and his friends were. 

Luke continued to run along with the others on his heels.  They were almost to the docking bay now, and he readied his lightsaber handle in his hand.  He took a deep breath and cleared his mind in preparation for combat, and glanced back over his shoulder to confirm that the others were ready too. 

He was just about to reach out into the Force to find Mara when she suddenly rushed up the hallway from behind them.  "Oh, good.  You're here," he said.  "We can use you."

"You've done fine without me so far," she muttered.  "But I thought I'd come back anyway."

"How generous of you," Luke chuckled.  The sight of her was stunning and disconcerting at the same time.  The scanty dancing girl outfit flattered her toned physique, and seeing her draped in his swirling indigo cloak made his heart skip a beat.  But the dyed black hair gave her a sinister look he didn't like at all, and the grime and sheen of perspiration on her skin revealed the full extent of her unpleasant days with the Hutt. 

Mara smiled just a little.  "Why?  Did you miss me?"

"Of course."

"You're such a sweetheart.  And it was only a few minutes."

He could sense plainly enough in the battle meld, though, that her question and his answer weren't really about the retreat from Jabba's throne room.  Then he realized they were seconds away from charging into the docking bay.  

"Here we go," he said to the other four behind him.  "Lando, you lead us straight to the stairwell.  Mara and I will provide all the cover we can."

"Copy that," Calrissian said.  

Luke ignited his turquoise laser sword, and at his side Mara's violet blade snap-hissed to life too.  With the two Jedi Knights on the flanks the group of six burst out into the wide, high-ceilinged chamber.  A motley collection of starships was spread out across the floor, including starfighters, freighters, and shuttles.  The docking bay was a hive of activity as fleeing gangsters and ruffians scrambled for their ships.  

They were already a good distance across the room toward the open archway on the far wall before anyone opened fire on them.  And that was just a Rodian who thought they were coming to steal his ship.  Luke swatted away the blaster bolts with a few quick flicks of the blue blade, and when the Rodian realized they weren't actually headed his way he holstered his blaster and scampered up the boarding ramp of his small craft. 

Luke sensed Mara repelling a few stray shots from the other side.  When his perceptions told him their charge across the room wasn't being impeded after all, he sidled up to her as they ran.  "What happened back there?" he asked her quietly, barely audible over the thrumming of their blades.  "When you were alone."

Her green eyes flicked quickly to his, then away again, and an emotional wall crashed down around her in the battle meld.  "Nothing.  Don't worry about it."

"I felt something," he said.  He still couldn't shake the troubling sensations he'd felt from her in the Force, and her defensiveness worried him even more. 

"Look, I don't want to talk about it right now," she said with sudden hostility, her voice low and sharp. 

He flinched.  "Okay.  Later, then."

"Sure," she said unconvincingly.  "Later."

Luke was about to say something more when he thought the better of it.  He sent her a burst of reassurance and warmth through the battle meld and hoped she hadn't blocked herself from receiving it.  That was all he could do for now.  But he wasn't going to let this go.  He'd just have to wait. 

---

Leia had her blaster pistol ready in her hand as they ran full speed across the docking bay.  The fact that they weren't really being fired upon was a pleasant surprise, but she wasn't willing to get her hopes up quite yet.  They still had a lot of distance to cover. 

Staying right behind Lando and Chewie in the lead, she kept her eyes peeled for danger as she ran.  She didn't see any threats, though.  Maybe they actually were going to make it.  

Then a movement at the edge of her peripheral vision caught her attention.  She turned her head to look at a strange starship about fifteen meters away.  Walking around the ship's exterior, readying it for takeoff, was a tall man dressed in distinctive Mandalorian armor.  

Boba Fett.  

Leia reacted instantly, aiming her pistol and squeezing off shot after shot at the bounty hunter.  A few bolts struck home, slamming Fett into the hull of his ship and driving him to the ground.  He tried to roll away, but Leia continued to shoot.  She couldn't tell how many times she hit him, but when the bounty hunter tried to rise into a crouch to return fire his arms gave way beneath him. 

Leia fired a few more shots until her path following Lando took Fett out of her view.  She wasn't sure she'd killed him, but there was no way she could afford the time to confirm it.  Leia closed her eyes for a brief moment and told herself she'd just have to accept this outcome.  She opened her eyes again to realize they were at the far wall.  

"Here we are," Lando said when they reached the open archway to the stairs.  He waved Han and Leia ahead.  "Quickly.  Start climbing."

"What?"  Han stared at Lando incredulously.  "We're going _up_?"

"That's right," Lando said. 

"But the desert is down," Han said indignantly.  

"I'm aware of that," Lando replied.  "But we're climbing.  Now quit your griping and move it!"

"Come on, Han.  Go," Leia insisted.  "Please.  Trust me."  

Han blew out a frustrated hiss, but he nodded and hurried into the stairwell.  Leia had just ducked into the stairwell after him when a massive rumble shook the building.  The roar rattled her ribs in her chest and rocked the stone floor beneath her feet. 

"What was that?" she demanded instantly. 

"I'm not sure," Luke said from behind her as he brought up the rear.  

Climbing the stairs at her side, Han called back down to them.  "Any chance this place has a self-destruct system built into it?"

"It does, actually," Lando said.  "I found that out a while back."

"Perfect," Han muttered as Chewie wroofed his dismay.  "Sounds like someone had the bright idea to activate it."

"That would explain the explosion," Luke said. 

"I don't suppose," Han groaned, "that you have any idea how to shut it down?"

"No," Lando said.  "I don't even know where the controls are."

"I don't either," Mara interjected.  "But I'm sure they're nowhere near here."

"Of course not," Han said, rolling his eyes.  "So how did this master plan of yours deal with this?"

"You tell him," Lando said to Mara.  

Mara laughed.  "The plan is to get out before the palace blows up."

Han glared back over his shoulder at Luke.  "And you approved this, kid?"

"It's a good plan," Luke said with a straight face.  

"Leia?"  Han looked at her plaintively.  "Tell me you didn't know about this."

"I won't lie to you, Han," she replied.  She smiled innocently at him – and didn't say anything more. 

"I'm surrounded by crazy people," Han exclaimed.  "Chewie, I blame you."

The Wookiee wrawled a retort in his own defense just as another explosion rumbled up from the depths of the palace.  Leia nearly fell on the stairs, but managed to brace herself on the wall with a hand just in time. 

"Wonderful," Han said, still scowling at Leia.  "So close to freedom, and I'm gonna get blown to smithereens."

"Just shut up and climb the stairs, Han," said Leia with a laugh.  

"We're almost there," Luke added.  "We'll get out fine.  I promise."

"Right," Han growled back.  "Gotta stick to the plan."

---

Danaé smiled when the image of her father resolved on the small viewscreen.  "Hi, Daddy."

"Hi, Danaé," he nodded.  "Your message was tagged Urgent.  What did you find?"

Danaé nodded too, acknowledging his decision to dispense with the small talk this time.  "I found the safehouse this morning.  The scanners confirmed that the facility had been used to prepare large quantities of a biological toxin."

"A toxin?  What kind?"

"The scanners could only narrow it down to a dozen possibilities or so," she said.  "All extremely deadly."

Her father frowned.  "Is all this in the data you're sending me now?"

"Yes, it is.  I could tell the safehouse had been cleared out quickly, so I knew they must've used a cargo firm to load and move it.  It didn't take long to find the company, and use them to find the spaceport and the outbound ship."

"That's fantastic," Anakin said.  "You're really getting good at this."

"Not good enough," Danaé scowled.  "By the time I tracked it all down the ship had been gone for six hours.  So I couldn't stop them, and it was too late to chase after them too."

"You did your best," her father said with a warm smile.  "As it is you got very close – close enough that they weren't able to cover their trail very effectively.  Think of all the information that has gained us."

"I suppose you're right."

"Could you determine where the ship was headed?"

"They registered a flight plan to Naboo."

Her father closed his eyes briefly.  "No deception."

"No," she agreed.  "I felt it even before the computer confirmed it for me."

"I'll inform our agents on Naboo immediately," Anakin said.  "With your data they should have a very good chance of finding them and setting up surveillance, if not intercepting the ship when it arrives." 

Danaé furrowed her brow.  "You don't want me to go to Naboo?"

"You're not needed there," he said.  "You've fulfilled your responsibilities in this.  It's now in the hands of others.  We both have to accept that."

"Understood," Danaé nodded, fully aware that their inability to take direct action to protect their beloved planet themselves pained him as much as her – and probably much more.  "What's next?"

"Return to Coruscant.  There's an important mission taking place in a few days, and you will almost certainly be assigned to it."  Her father smiled warmly.  "And before that there's something else you'll have to do for me."

She raised her eyebrows.  "Oh?  And what's that?"

He winked.  "It's a surprise.  You'll find out when you get here."

"Very well, Daddy," Danaé laughed.  "I'll see you soon."

---****

Han ran up the last few stairs and burst out onto a small terrace atop the rear roof of Jabba's palace.  The bright suns of Tatooine were nearly blinding, especially considering he'd hardly been outdoors at all in the last year.  He quickly held his hand up to shield his eyes from the blazing light, and watched as a number of starships of all shapes and sizes began to launch away from the docking bays on both sides of the palace.  Then he looked around and realized the six of them were standing there with nowhere to go – beyond the edges of the terrace was a sheer drop over fifty meters straight down to the rocky outcroppings at the base of the fortress.  

He looked over at Luke.  "Uh, kid?  What now?"

"We wait," Luke said with an unnervingly serene smile.  

"We wait for what?"

Luke's creepy smile didn't change.  "For the _Falcon_, of course."

Han blinked.  "The _Falcon_?"

Suddenly Leia was at his elbow.  "Yes.  It'll be here any second now."

Han blinked again.  And again.  "But… but…"

Luke still had that blasted Jedi smile.  "Artoo.  He has Threepio to help out as well."

Han spun around on his heel to face Lando and Chewie.  "Did you know about this?"

Lando flashed a wide grin and spread his hands.  "Hey, buddy, calm down.  It's no big deal."

"It's no big deal?!?!?" 

Chewie wroofed agreement with Lando and stepped over next to Han.  

"You're letting a _droid_ – a _DROID_  – fly the _Falcon_ and you think it's no big deal?"  Han lunged toward Lando, only to find himself trapped in a crushing Wookiee embrace.  "Let me go, you big furball," Han shouted up at his captor.  "I'm gonna throttle you with my bare hands, Lando.  With my _bare hands_!"

Leia put her small hand on his arm.  "Han, I really think you should –"

Another rumbling explosion from within the palace interrupted her.  The terrace shook beneath their feet, and they all swayed in place from the strength of the tremor.  A moment later a loud cracking sound preceded a massive nearby section of the building's thick outer stone wall crumbling, breaking off, and plummeting away.  

"Oh, this is getting more fun by the second," Han said.  "You think your _droid_ can manage not to crash the _Falcon_ long enough to show up?"

"We're well within our window," Luke said too calmly.  "He'll be here any second."

"He'd better," Han muttered, "or we'll all be smashed to bits before we even hit the ground."

Mara smirked.  "You will, maybe.  I'll use the Force to stay in one piece.  I'll be fine."

"Great," Han said.  "Not just a Jedi Knight, but a comedian too."

"Calm down, Han," said Leia, squeezing his arm.  "Artoo is a very good pilot.  Don't worry."

"Look, Princess, I know you don't understand what the big deal is but I think –"  He stopped abruptly when he heard the distinctive roar of the _Falcon_'s atmospheric drives. 

The next second his beloved disc-shaped freighter swerved around the far edge of the palace and headed right toward them.  The starship slowed as it approached, and the boarding ramp began to lower.  

His mouth agape, Han stared at Luke.  "You're… you're… you're going to let the droid do a hovering pickup?  Have you gone _completely INSANE_?"

Luke shrugged.  "Maybe.  But I'm confident Artoo can do it."

"He can," Leia said.  "Trust me."

"It's not you I don't trust, Your Worshipfulness," Han scoffed.  "It's the droid."

Yet before he could say more the _Falcon_ had arrived at the terrace.  It slowed to a hover on its repulsors and lowered straight down until the end of the boarding ramp was only a meter off the terrace.  The maneuver wasn't perfect by any means – not nearly as smooth or controlled as he or Chewie would've done – but Han couldn't deny the little astromech had pulled it off.  

Not that there was any chance he was going to admit that to anyone.  Ever.  Not for all the credits in the galaxy. 

"Go," Luke said.  "Everybody onboard.  Now!"

Han watched the two Jedi spring up the ramp first, followed by Lando and Chewie.  He offered his hand to Leia as she bounded onto the ramp, then hopped up himself.  He charged past the others and ran toward the cockpit with Chewie on his heels.  

"Out of the way, Goldenrod," he ordered as he surged through the open portal, past the astromech, and right into the empty pilot's chair.  

"But Captain Solo, sir," the protocol droid exclaimed, "I'm not in the way.  I'm seated…"

"How're the systems, Chewie?" Han asked as he grabbed the controls with one hand and snapped on his crash webbing with the other.  

"…in the passenger seat," Threepio's unwanted explanation continued, "precisely because I knew…"

One step ahead of him as usual, the Wookiee wrawled an affirmation.  

"…that you and Captain Chewbacca would want to take the controls as soon as possible," the droid concluded.  

"Shut up, Goldenrod," Han said, already reaching for the intercom switch.  

"Shutting up, sir," the protocol droid replied.  

"All strapped in back there?" asked Han into the speaker.  

"We're all set," replied Leia's voice immediately.  

"Good," Han said, swatting off the intercom again.  "Because I wasn't gonna wait."  He swung the starship's nose around away from the fortress and pulled the _Falcon_ into a steep climb.  

Chewie wroofed a question.  

"Yeah, that's right," Han said.  "Let's punch it and get outta here."  

With a shudder and jolt the _Falcon_ shot away into the piercingly blue sky – and only a split-second later Jabba's palace exploded in an enormous detonation of fire and rock behind them.  

---

The soft hooting of an unseen owl broke the quiet of the depths of night.  Standing on the balcony of her third floor rented loft, Darth Delicti gazed out over the slumbering city of Theed.  Far in the distance the Royal Palace was illuminated.  Elsewhere occasional windows were bright, and the tiny dots of street lamps formed meandering patterns marking out the ancient cobblestone streets.  The gentle murmur of the city's waterfalls and the whisper of a light wind were the only sounds in this little corner of Naboo's capital. 

Except for that blasted owl.  

Delicti fired a burst of anger into the Force, and instantly heard the flutter of wings as the owl fled the predatory wave of power it couldn't even comprehend.  With a smile Delicti leaned forward, bracing herself by her hands on the metal railing and closing her eyes to let the caress of the flower-scented breeze chill her face.  For a long time she stood in place, letting the Force wash over her spirit and using its energy to soothe her aching muscles and convince her body it didn't need sleep this night.  

She had too much to do.    
Delicti opened her eyes again and admired the capital of Supreme Chancellor Amidala's homeworld.  It really was a beautiful place.  As much as she hated the Chosen One's wife, she couldn't deny that.  It was no wonder the city was brimming with residents, offworlders and Naboo and Gungans alike.  

It was almost a shame that in a few days they would all be dead.  

Almost.  

Delicti pushed off from the railing, spun around, and strode quickly back into her laboratory.  

---

Padmé slumped back in her chair and unconsciously raised her hand to the base of her throat to clutch the japoor snippet pendant hanging from its thin chain.  "Where this time?"

"At Fondor," Jenny said.  "The shipyards.  Two destroyers and two cruisers that were only days from completion were totally destroyed in the attack."   

"Twice in the Core two days," Padmé sighed.  "It's masterful.  They've been losing territory for months, and yet they've turned the Senate upside down.  It's hardly any different than if we were losing the war."

"Whatever chance we had with the Senate is gone," Rabé said.  "There's no way the redeployment of sector fleets would be approved now.  No way." 

"It's worse than that," Dormé insisted.  "The level of anxiety is practically a panic at this point.  I've been talking to our most reliable sources in some of the caucuses.  If you authorize the commanders to carry out the deployments, there will be legislation introduced to countermand it.  It's that serious."

"There's no concern for the greater welfare of the Republic any longer," Padmé said.  "The Senators are only looking out for their systems.  And their careers.  It's just so frustrating."

"Is there any way we can get past their fears?" asked Sabé into the somber quiet of the Supreme Chancellor's ceremonial office.  "Can we offer complete recovery and rebuilding assistance?  Lower tariffs to sectors whose fleets are redeployed?  Some other kind of financial incentives?" 

"That might have worked a few months ago," Rabé said, shaking her head.  "But it's too late for that.  The fear is just too great.  The risk is perceived to be so high those kinds of policies won't be enough."  

"I agree," Saché said as Dormé nodded too.  "We have to consider the possibility that the legislation to prevent the deployments will be introduced quickly."  

"And we need a strategy to defeat it," Sabé said.  "The problem is we're running out of options."

"And we have to consider the possibility," Jenny pointed out, "that your authority under the Declaration of War could be repealed."

"That would be a catastrophe," Sabé scoffed.  "They wouldn't dare." 

"They might," Padmé said quietly, twiddling the pendant with her fingers.  "The Senate hasn't been in this much chaos since the Separatist insurrection.  No one feels safe.  If some systems are left exposed, the others will rally to their cause for fear of being next.  Fear is a powerful ally for our enemies, Sabé.  A powerful ally indeed."

"So we'll be on the defensive all across the Republic, with only the offensive forces at the front we have now?"  Sabé shook her head in disbelief.  "It will take years to win the war that way.  The cost will be staggering – in money, in trade, in lives.  It's intolerable."

"I know it is," Padmé said.  For a long moment she closed her eyes, taking a series of deep breaths and rubbing slow circles on her temples with her fingertips.  Then she opened her eyes again and looked at the group of six seated in the chairs beyond her desk.  "You've been quiet, Sarré.  What do you think?"

Sarré sighed.  "You won't like what I have to say." 

"Probably not," Padmé conceded.  Sarré knew her well enough that she wouldn't make a statement like that lightly.  "It's all right.  Tell me anyway."

"I think you've been beaten, Padmé," she replied.  "I think the Sith have out-maneuvered you."

Padmé raised her hand to silence the others, who were about to interrupt in indignation.  "Go on."

"These attacks have no real military significance," Sarré said.  "None of them do.  Fear is their ally, as you said, and they're exploiting it perfectly.  It won't be long before the Senate devolves into anarchy – and the war effort becomes a complete disaster." 

Padmé nodded.  As much as she didn't want to admit it, she knew Sarré was right.  "How much time do I have?"

"Very little," Sarré said.  "Think about it.  We're at a turning point – a breaking point.  If we had our enemy in a position like this, what would we do?"

"We'd go for the kill," Padmé said.  A shiver ran down her spine as the horrible reality of it sank in.  "So how do we block them?  How do we stop them?"

Sarré glanced at the others, then held her mother's eyes in a pained gaze.  "You do the only thing you can do," she said, still locking eyes with Sabé.  "I think you're caught in their trap, and the only way you can get out is by doing the one thing they don't believe you're willing to do."

Then Sarré told them all the truth they didn't want to hear.  But they had to admit that she was right.  There was no other way.  There just wasn't.

It only took a few minutes to prepare the documents, a formal copy on durasheet for the Republic's historical archives and an electronic version for immediate distribution to the Senators, the military, and the news agencies.  With swift strokes of her pen Supreme Chancellor Amidala took the decisive action her peers in the Senate had forced upon her.  Now no one was accountable for the course of the war but she.  

Then she opened a communications line to Commander General Dodonna and Admiral Ackbar and ordered them to implement Victory Strike, using any and all military resources of the Republic necessary to carry out the plan.  

Finally Padmé triggered the small camera in the room and recorded a brief address to the citizens of the galaxy from behind the elegant desk.  She explained that the stalemate in the Senate had become a hindrance to victory – a victory the Republic could not afford to delay.  She vowed that the war soon would be won, and she accepted sole responsibility for the progress of the war under her exclusive direction.  She concluded the short speech with words no Supreme Chancellor had spoken in decades.  

"I decree that the Senate is hereby adjourned indefinitely."   

---****

The four principal officers settled into their chairs on one side of a short conference table.  "It should be just a moment," Commander General Dodonna told the others.  "We already have the feed opened."

Admiral Mirkalla nodded.  "Good.  There is a great deal of planning and preparation left to be done."

"Indeed," General Madine said.  "Fortunately I think we should have plenty…"

His voice trailed off as the full-size blue holographic image began to coalesce in front of the table.  After several seconds it resolved into the towering figure of Bryon Skywalker, still dressed in his black Special Forces battle armor and with his helmet tucked in his left elbow.  "Colonel Skywalker reporting as requested, sirs," his deep voice said.  "Xixus is once again in our hands."

"Well done, Colonel," Dodonna said.  "We congratulate you on yet another victory."

"I am proud to do my duty," Skywalker replied with a crisp bow.  

"Do you have a preliminary assessment yet, Colonel?" asked Madine.  

"Casualties among our ground forces were quite low," Skywalker answered calmly.  "A small number of starfighters were lost, but otherwise the Navy seems to have succeeded unscathed as well.  It appears that the Vyhrragians had withdrawn the great majority of their forces from the system before our attack."

"Understandable, to be sure," Mirkalla said, scratching his goatee thoughtfully.  "Our offensive was hardly unexpected by the enemy."

"I agree, sir," Skywalker said.  "We have control over the capital and all major cities on the planet, as well as all transit points within the system.  Given the limited resistance we faced I believe complete control can be achieved within a matter of days."

"Very good, Colonel," Dodonna said.  "At this point we have other orders for you, however.  General Veers will depart this evening for Xixus and continue the operations in that and nearby systems in your stead."

"Of course, sir," Skywalker said.  "And my orders, sir?"

"You are to return at once to Coruscant," Admiral Ackbar replied.  The Mon Calamari tactician blinked his large bulbous eyes and cleared his throat.  "The Supreme Chancellor has approved Victory Strike." 

Skywalker nodded.  "Yes, sir." 

"I believe the plan can be executed almost entirely as we designed it," Ackbar continued.  "Nevertheless we have retaken several additional systems and have shifted several more capital ships into the available arsenal since then.  The plan no doubt can benefit from these developments."

"Agreed, Admiral," Skywalker said with a smile.  "I look forward to the planning session."

"And I to your insight, Colonel," Ackbar smiled back.  "I anticipate we will be ready to launch the operation in three or four days' time."

"We have a rapid-transit shuttle in our fleet here.  I should be able to depart within a few hours."  Skywalker turned to face Dodonna again.  "Is there anything else, sir?"

"As a matter of fact there is, Colonel," he replied.  "The night after next a joint Army-Navy event will be held in the Senate district.  It will begin with a ceremony of commemoration and remembrance as well as celebration, and will include the presentation of medals and the announcement of promotions."

"Of course, sir," Skywalker said, tipping his head. 

From the corner of his eye Dodonna caught the almost imperceptible nods of the others – unlike many of his peers, Skywalker had more than enough discretion and humility to ask anything about the commendations he no doubt knew were headed his way.  "There will be an officers' ball following the ceremony, Colonel.  I am confident you will enjoy that as well."  

"Thank you, sir," Skywalker said.  "I will be sure to notify my wife as soon as possible."

Madine grinned.  "Your wisdom continues to impress, Colonel." 

Skywalker nodded with a subtle smirk.  "I am well trained, sir." 

"That is all for now, Colonel," Dodonna chuckled softly.  "We await your arrival."

"May the Force with you, Colonel," Ackbar added quickly.  

Skywalker bowed respectfully.  "And also with you, sir." 

The holographic image flickered and vanished, and Dodonna and the others rose from their seats.  With brief nods they strode quickly from the room and went to their separate tasks. 

---

Lando leaned over to confirm the hyperdrive reading on the pilot's console, then turned to face his old friend in the _Falcon_'s co-pilot's chair.  "You know," he sighed, "after that adventure I think I'm actually looking forward to the war."

Chewie wroofed an amused affirmation and slapped Lando heartily on the back.  

Lando shook his head in disbelief.  "How do we get ourselves into these things?" 

Chewie shrugged and rumbled indifferently.  

"Maybe so," Lando agreed.  "But I don't have a life debt to him."

Chewie chuckled and bared his teeth in a friendly grin.  

"I guess you're right," Lando conceded.  "He has pulled my butt out of a few fires over the years, hasn't he?" 

Chewie nodded, then tipped his head toward the open portal to the narrow cabin hallway and wrawled a question. 

"No," Lando laughed.  "I don't think we'll see him any time soon."

Chewie growled a proposal. 

"Sure," Lando said.  "But only if it's best of seven."

Chewie pondered for a moment, then wroofed his answer.  

"Deal," Lando said, nodding decisively.  "And after that how about some sabacc, so I can win some more of your money?"

Chewie growled indignantly, then rumbled a laugh and rose from his chair.

---

Luke sat on the narrow bed in the small chamber that held the _Falcon_'s crew bunks.  His eyes were closed and his hands rested in his lap.  It would be nearly a standard day before they arrived at Coruscant, and for the first time in weeks he could look forward to restful sleep.  Stretching his feelings into the Force, he sensed Lando and Chewie engaged in a good-natured quarrel at the dejarik table.  Han and Leia were in the captain's cabin, their presences in the Force glowing with obvious joy at their long-awaited reunion.  

And Mara was back.

Luke opened his eyes as the door slid upward and she paced inside.  She'd scrubbed all the dye from her hair, which now sparkled with its customary red-gold shimmer.  Her skin was a bright pink from scouring away the grime of two months in Jabba's palace.  And her white sleeveless shirt and sleepshorts clung to her damp body. 

Eyebrows raised, she looked over at him.  "You're still awake?"

He nodded – and almost didn't suppress in time his smile at the way her green eyes twinkled as they very quickly appraised his bare chest.  "I was waiting for you."

"Oh."

"Didn't you want me to?"

Mara paused, meeting his gaze.  "Yeah.  I did."

Without the link between their minds Luke couldn't tell why she was so tentative, and he thought it looked like she still hadn't decided whether to climb into his bed or the bunk above.  Whatever it was, both of them being hesitant was getting them nowhere.  "Come here," he said, making room for her as he lay down and held out his hand.  "I'm here now.  Everything's going to be all right."

She paused again, but only for a moment.  She clasped his hand and lowered herself onto the bed, pressing her body to his with her back to his bare chest.  A shuddering, deep breath shook her body.  "You promise?"

"I promise."

"I trust you," she whispered.  

He wrapped an arm around her and held her close, and for a few minutes they lay in silence.  But something still was bothering him about what he'd sensed in Jabba's palace.  "Mara?"

"Yeah?"

"What happened?"  He rested his chin on her shoulder.  "When you were alone, covering our retreat.  I felt something.  Like you were in pain."

She sighed and wrapped her arm atop his around her waist.  "It was…"

He waited for her to continue, but she didn't.  "It was what?" he asked gently.  "It's all right."

Mara sighed again.  "I'll tell you later," she finally said.  "Not now.  Okay?  Please?"

Luke nodded into her shoulder.  "Okay.  Later."

"Hold me," she whispered.  "Just hold me."

"I will," he whispered back.  "Always."

---

Han sat on his bed with his back leaned against the wall.  Curled up in his lap, Leia had her arms wrapped around him and her head on his shoulder.  Slowly he ran his fingers through the long locks of her loose brown hair.  "I can't believe it's finally over," he said.  "I can't believe I'm actually out of there."

She looked up into his eyes.  "You were surprised I was there, weren't you?"

He knew better than to try to lie to her.  "Yeah, I was."

"Why?"

"You're a pretty important person, you know," he laughed.  "Galactic Senators don't just drop what they're doing and go run jailbreaks."

Leia smiled innocently and batted her eyelashes.  "They don't?"

"Not last time I checked, no," he said, deadpan.  "Plus, you're rich."

She raised her eyebrows.  "And?"

"And that means you can pay people to do your dirty work."  Han shook his head and chuckled.  "If I was rich, that's sure what I'd do."

Leia jolted back and glared at him in mock indignation.  "You mean you wouldn't have come for me yourself?  You'd just have paid some mercenaries to get me out?"

"Of course not, Princess," he said with overdramatic apology.  "Not for you.  For you I'd come myself.  I meant for anyone else.  Like Luke, for example.  I'd pay people to get him out."

"So would I," she laughed.  Then she extracted herself from his embrace and clambered off the bed.  "Speaking of rich, I have something for you." 

Han's gaze never left her luscious curves as she bounded across the room in her sleeveless top and sleepshorts.  "Oh?  And what's that?" 

She rummaged through her travel bag in the corner and pulled out a cylindrical tube wrapped in paper.  Quickly she sprang back on the bed, sat cross-legged in front of him, and passed the object to him. 

He was shocked at how heavy it was.  "Am I supposed to open this?"

"You catch on quickly."

Han didn't say anything, but simply tore at the paper until it broke.  The contents spilled onto the bed with a loud jingle – dozens of shining aurodium coins.  Immediately Han scooped one up.  It was a thousand denomination.  So was the next.  And the next.  He looked at her in amazement.  "How much is this?"

"Thirty-five."

"Thirty-five _thousand_?"

"No, thirty-five million," she laughed.  "Yes, Han, thirty-five thousand."

He couldn't believe it.  "Where'd you get this?  Why are you giving it to me?"

Leia smiled.  "It's the bounty Jabba paid me for turning over Chewie.  I figured you should have it."

Han swallowed hard.  As if it wasn't enough she'd come to rescue him herself, now she'd just given him a huge sum of money because she figured he should have it.  All he had to offer her in return was his word that he still loved her as much as he had a year ago.  That hardly lived up.  It was pathetic by comparison.  

"Thank you, Leia," he finally said.  "But I don't feel right taking this."

She shrugged.  "If it makes you feel uncomfortable, I'll offer it to Chewie."  Then she winked.  "Or to Lando."

He threw up his hands and laughed.  "Okay, okay, you win.  I'll keep it."****


	7. Chapter Six Part 1

**CHAPTER SIX (Part 1 of 2)**

Anakin stood in the foyer of the Skywalker residence, awaiting the imminent departure of his children.  Tonight in the Senate district the military was hosting an awards ceremony and officers' ball to honor meritorious service, announce promotions, remember fallen comrades, and celebrate recent victories.  It was just the kind of event his children needed in their lives right now – a moment away from the grim reality of war to find some happiness before the high-risk attack on Vyhrrag was launched.  

Idly he wondered what excuse Supreme Chancellor Amidala had given for skipping the event.  It couldn't possibly be the truth – that she had unobstructed access to her grandson for a night.  Several members of the Jedi Council had offered to go to represent the Order, so Anakin didn't have to attend either.  He was very much looking forward to the simple night with Nyklas.  

In the meantime, though, he had unfinished business to attend to. 

Standing two meters away across Anakin's foyer, Captain Solo was radiating agitation in the Force and fidgeting like a petty thief caught in the act by constable.  All things considered Anakin thought he'd gone rather easy on the Navy officer so far.  Solo didn't know how good he had it compared to Anakin's treatment of some of Leia's first suitors.  To this day Padmé still chastised him for the distress he'd inflicted on poor Jarren Organa even after the young man had sought Leia's hand in marriage.  

Anakin knew he shouldn't be enjoying tormenting Solo this much, but he just couldn't stop himself.  And he figured it was time to break the uncomfortable silence with another round of even more uncomfortable conversation.  

"Captain Solo, your feelings for my daughter are nothing but honorable, I trust?"

The young man flinched, but immediately he met Anakin's stony gaze.  "Yes, sir." 

"She devoted herself to your rescue for a year."

"Yes, sir."

"Relax, Captain," Anakin said in a grim voice, although really it was taking all of his concentration not to laugh aloud at Solo's discomfort.  "As long as you don't break her heart, you have nothing to worry about from me."

"Of course not, sir."  The seasoned combat veteran clearly had never been in a situation like this before.  

Anakin simply smiled.  "I think we understand one another."  

"We do, sir."

Then the sharp voice rang in the foyer.  "Daddy!  Whatever you're attempting, stop it."

---

Although a cursory examination had been enough, to humor her seated daughter Padmé went through the pretense of carefully appraising Leia's hair from three sides and in the big mirror on the vanity.  "It's fine."

"You're sure?"

Padmé put her hands on Leia's shoulders.  "Yes." 

"Thanks, Mom."  Leia leaned in toward the mirror to scrutinize her makeup a final time.  

"Sweetheart, I know how long you've waited to have him back, but remember to be careful about what you expect from him.  He'll be tentative.  He could be awkward.  Even if his feelings haven't changed, it may take some time for him to say it.  Or for him to accept that yours haven't changed either.  Just be careful."

"I will, Mom.  The last thing I want to do is hurt him.  Or scare him away."

"You'll be fine, dear, really," Padmé said.  "Be yourself.  Be honest.  You don't have to _prove_ anything to him, not after what you did." 

"I know," Leia said, rising to her feet.  "Come on, let's go." 

They walked quickly down the corridor to the foyer.  As they turned the corner Padmé inadvertently let a quiet giggle escape her throat at the sight of tan-robed Anakin inflicting his best Exceptionally Imposing Jedi Master demeanor on a very flustered Captain Solo.  

Leia burst ahead.  "Daddy!  Whatever you're attempting, stop it."

Padmé laughed and paced over to Solo.  "Enjoy yourself tonight, Han."

He bowed respectfully.  "Thank you, Your Excellency." 

"Please," she insisted quietly, "call me Padmé." 

"Sure," he said, nodding a bit reluctantly.  "Thanks." 

She winked.  "Just go ahead and ignore my husband.  Leia always does."

---

Anakin threw up his hands defensively as his gundark of a daughter marched toward him.  "Stop what?"

"Ha!"  Leia propped her hands on her hips.  "Nice try."

"I'm looking out for my little girl, that's all.  Really, it's nothing you should get upset –"

She cut him off by jabbing a finger into his chest.  "I…" – another poke – "can look out…" – poke – "for myself…" – poke – "if it's all the same to you."  

Anakin found himself very grateful there hadn't been a concluding poke.  "Very well, darling." 

She crossed her arms over her chest and glared up at him.  "We're clear?" 

"As transparisteel."

Leia grinned broadly, then turned around and took Solo's hand.  "Bye, Mom.  Bye, Daddy."  

And in a flash the young couple was out the main door and into the corridor toward the turbolifts.  

At his side Anakin heard Padmé clear her throat.  He held out his hands and smiled innocently.  "What?"

"You never listen to me," she laughed, shaking her head in dismay.  "Did you enjoy yourself?"

Anakin grinned unrepentantly.  "I did.  Thanks for asking."

"I hope it was worth it.  Don't come crying to me when Leia exacts her vengeance on you."

"Tough words," he said, leaning down to kiss her forehead.  "But I know you'll comfort me afterwards.  You can't help yourself."

"You're being annoyingly overconfident tonight, Master Jedi," she grumbled.  "If I were you I'd be –"

She stopped abruptly at the sound of the approaching footsteps, and Anakin turned to see Luke and Mara walking into the foyer – reunited yet insecure, together yet distant.  Clearly the young lovers were ill at ease in their formal attire, but there was more to it than that.  Looking closely at their faces, Anakin could see that they both were hiding something.  And not from him, he realized, so much as from one another.  With a mental sigh he accepted that this was neither the time nor the place to provoke the firewasp's hive the youngsters had created for themselves. 

Anakin smiled warmly.  "You look lovely tonight, Mara." 

"You do," Padmé added.  "Truly." 

"Thanks," Mara mumbled, her eyes not meeting theirs.  

"Have a dance with your sisters for me," Anakin said to Luke, who nodded.  "Enjoy yourselves tonight.  It will be good for your peace of mind in the coming days."

"We will," his son said, heading toward the door.  "Thanks."

Mara smiled weakly and nodded, but she didn't say a word as she followed Luke out.

Anakin took Padmé's hand, then glanced down to see her looking up at him with a concerned expression on her face.  He kissed her forehead again.  

"She's in trouble," Padmé said quietly.  

"I know," he sighed.  "She's a Jedi Knight now.  I can't make her ask me for help." 

"She's a good person and you've trained her well.  She'll do the right thing."

"She will.  I just hope she doesn't suffer too much before she finds her way." 

Padmé squeezed his hand and was about to say something more when Danaé strode into the foyer dressed simply in her regular tan Jedi robes.  In a single compromise to flair their daughter's long brown hair was hanging loosely around her shoulders; the curly tresses brought out her natural beauty and grace, which she rarely showed publicly.  Anakin's eyes met Padmé's – and her eyebrows were raised too.  If Leia and Sarré had gotten Mara into an elegant formal dress, it seemed impossible that they could have failed to get more than the pretty hair from Danaé.  

Padmé winked at him and turned to Danaé.  "How did you manage this?" 

Danaé laughed and patted her glittering silver lightsaber handle.  "Aggressive negotiations."

"I see," Padmé laughed too.  "Good for you." 

Anakin smiled at his daughter and reached out to brush his fingers through a few locks of hair on the side of her face.  "You made the right decision to attend tonight," he said.  "I know you don't really want to go, but it will mean a lot to the others to have you there."

Danaé's lips curled upward into a half smile and she tipped her head a little.  "It's all right.  I don't mind."  

"You know," he chuckled, "if you're open to the idea of having fun, you just might."

"And I hear that Corran Halycon fellow has a thing for you," Padmé said.  "Give him a chance."

"Mom!"  For a moment Danaé scowled, but then she shook her head and grinned.  "Fine.  If he asks me to dance, I will.  It would be rude to decline.  But he does _not_ have a 'thing' for me."

Padmé smiled with perfect politician's sincerity.  "Of course not, sweetheart." 

"I'm leaving," Danaé groused.  She snapped her blue eyes to Anakin's.  "Not a word from you." 

With a straight face Anakin compressed his lips together tightly into a thin line, and held them that way until his daughter was out the door.  Now only one obstacle remained to peace and quiet with his wife and grandson.  It was time to turn on the notorious Skywalker impatience.  

"Let's clear them out," he declared.  

"Yes," Padmé said, leading him by the hand as she strode deliberately toward the interior corridor.  "Let's."

As soon as the nursery door slid open Anakin spoke.  "Out.  Now."

Bryon and Sarré looked up from where they were standing over Nyklas in the basinet.  

"Out," Anakin repeated.  "Go.  You're going to be late.  Out."

"But… but… he's not asleep," Sarré sputtered.  "We just wanted to be sure –"

"Out," Anakin said again.  

Bryon had his arm around his wife's shoulders.  "Just another minute and then we'll –"

"No," Anakin said.  He shot a firm stare at the young couple as he wrapped his arm around Padmé in the same pose.  "How many children have we raised?"

"Four," said Sarré meekly.  

"And how many have you raised?"

"One," Bryon started to say, then corrected himself.  "Well… um… none, really."

Padmé finally couldn't hold in her laughter any longer.  "I think we are perfectly capable of getting Nyklas to bed for the night.  Your son will torment you for the rest of your miserable lives.  The ball is one night only.  Now go."

"Out," Anakin added for good measure.  

Bryon and Sarré took lingering looks down at their son before they smiled broadly and walked quickly from the room hand-in-hand.  The instant the door slid shut behind them Nyklas began to wail. 

Anakin pulled Padmé into an embrace.  "That was _exhausting_." 

She chuckled into his shirt and raised her voice over the screeching of their grandson.  "No kidding."

Almost as if he was feeling left out of the hug, Nyklas began to shriek even louder.  

Anakin raised his eyebrows.  "I'll go fix us some drinks?"

Padmé nodded decisively.  "Please.  We're just getting started."

---****

The night began with the presentation of numerous commendations, medals, and promotions by the High Council of Fleet Admirals and the Commander General's Committee.  After that tribute was paid to the fallen members of the Army and Navy, followed by an extensive series of toasts lauding the successes of the Republic and praying for swift victory to prevent the further loss of life.  Finally, the ceremony adjourned from the patriotically festooned auditorium to the ballroom for a few hours of much-needed revelry.  

With Sarré's hand held firmly in his, Bryon smiled broadly as he entered the ornately decorated chamber in the Museum of History and Remembrance, a towering structure located in the government district at one corner of the sweeping ferrocrete plaza that stretched out from the main entrance to the domed Galactic Senate building.  The massive ballroom was over a hundred meters square, with polished marble floors, soaring granite columns, colorful banners hanging from the walls, and wide windows and shimmering gilding on the slanted ceiling high above.  As the scores of officers and their guests spread out across the space, Bryon shook his head in wonderment. 

"What's wrong?"

He glanced down into Sarré's concerned lavender eyes.  "Nothing," he said.  "I'm just enjoying the moment.  The calm.  The relaxation.  It's nice."

"It is," she agreed, tugging him forward.  "I'm having brandy.  What do you want?"

A few minutes later Bryon still felt the heat of the rapidly consumed liquor in his face as they danced to the quick-tempo waltz the orchestra was playing.  All around them the eclectic crowd of humans and aliens was enjoying the lively tune and the rollicking celebration.  With a full extension of his arm he spun Sarré, then slung her back to him.  They both burst out laughing. 

She gripped him firmly by the waist, and they twirled together through the throng.  "What's so funny?"

"That dress," he murmured.  It was the same one she had worn that afternoon a year ago when they had confessed their secret marriage – and the pregnancy – to their families.  The brightly colored diaphanous fabric would have been sultry enough, but the slim gown's tight bodice and plunging neckline were utterly distracting.  "It looks like it's about to fall off."  

"It won't," she insisted with a perfectly straight face.  "Not until I'm good and ready."

"I see," Bryon said, immediately affecting profound sincerity.  "I'll just be patient, then." 

"You'd better," Sarré laughed.  She lifted her hand and brushed her fingers along the many multicolored medals pinned to the front of the jacket of his dress-whites uniform.  "Very impressive, darling." 

"Thanks."  He paused.  "So, did you like the surprise?"

"I did.  It was a very nice surprise."

"I thought you would."

"As long as it's not that I'm pregnant again," she said with a wink, "you can surprise me all you like."

"I'll keep that in mind, my love."  The waltz ended and a slow, tender melody began to play.  Bryon looked down into her eyes.  "Dance?"

"Later," Sarré said.  "First, more brandy."  

He laughed heartily.  "As you wish."

She grinned wickedly.  "You are wise to obey, _General_."

---

"May I have this dance?"

Luke spun around to the sight of a stunning green-eyed young woman in a breathtaking silver dress.  Her short red haired perfectly framed her face, and her thin Padawan braid hung down almost to her collarbone.  "Of course you may.  It's good to see you."

Shira Brie smiled and let him take the lead.  "It's good to see you too.  Congratulations, obviously.  I would've said something sooner but I haven't seen you at the Temple."

"Thanks," Luke said.  "I've been away on a mission."

"My Master says I'll be ready for the Trials within a year."

"That's good.  I'm sure you'll get through them easily."

"Thanks."  Shira looked closely into his eyes.  "How are things with you?"

"Okay, I guess."

"You and Mara haven't worked out all the kinks yet, huh?"

Luke gaped at her. 

Shira grinned.  "You never could get anything past me, Luke.  And if you think you can get anything past her, you're sorely mistaken."  She pointed to her head.  "It's the hair.  It gives us magical powers."

He laughed.  "I'll keep that in mind."  

"Be smart about this, Luke.  For once, don't be yourself."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Her expression was entirely serious.  "It's time you stopped breaking hearts, and started trusting your own."

---

In the middle of the latest waltz Han caught himself admiring Leia's figure again.  She wore a striking red dress that flaunted her curves and unquestionably made the other officers incredibly jealous.  He almost felt embarrassed the way he was looking at her – the way he couldn't take his eyes off her even for a second.  But he figured she wouldn't have worn this tonight if she didn't want that reaction from him.  

They'd been apart a year.  They'd only just admitted their feelings for each other, and expressed them physically and verbally, when Jabba the Hutt's twisted vengeance had separated them.  He'd thought about her every day of his captivity – and when she'd come to rescue him personally he knew she must've done the same.  The entire time it'd taken the _Falcon_ to bring them back to Coruscant, all day and all night, they'd spent talking and dozing and then talking some more just to experience the joy of each other's company again.  After that he'd gone to hours of Navy debriefings and she'd checked in with her Senate office and visited her parents until they'd met again at her family's penthouse residence right before the officers' ball.  

He really couldn't believe how lucky he was.

Her voice interrupted his thoughts.  "Han?  Is something the matter?"

"Don't sweat it, Princess.  I'll be fine."

"Tell me.  Please?"

He gazed into her pleading brown eyes and sighed.  "Your father is a pretty intimidating guy." 

"Daddy?  Oh, he's harmless," she laughed.  

"Easy for you to say, sweetheart.  You're not the one whose life he basically threatened." 

"He just wants me to be happy.  He doesn't want me to get hurt."  Leia smiled and brushed her fingers along his cheek.  "If you gave up too easily, he'd know your feelings weren't what you claimed.  He was only testing you – trying to scare you a little." 

Han shook his head in disbelief.  "Yeah, well it worked."

She laughed merrily.  "Come on," she said, tugging him toward a table.  "Sit down.  Let me tell you a story about what Daddy did to Jarren once.  I think it'll make you feel much better."

---

"May I have this dance?"

Danaé turned at the sound of the familiar voice.  "Of course, Corran."

The handsome Corellian took one of her hands in his and rested his other hand on her hip as they stepped out onto the dance floor.  "How've you been?"

"Well.  And you?"

"Well.  Are you back at the Temple for a while?"

Danaé shook her head.  "Another mission.  I leave tomorrow."

"Me too," Corran said.  "I'm flying on the Rogue Squadron rotation."

"Luke enjoyed that," she said while her mind raced through the possibilities.  That timing couldn't be a coincidence.  She was beginning to think this next assignment was a bigger deal than she'd realized.  

Corran seemed lost in thought for a moment too.  Then he looked up into her eyes again.  "Do you ever feel a lot of expectations because your father's on the Council?"

"All the time," Danaé admitted.  "Although usually it's more my own than anyone else's."

"Good," he laughed.  "I was afraid it was just me."

"Hardly."

"Do you ever wonder if you'll be on the Council someday?  Like him?"

Danaé looked away, and didn't say anything.  

"Come on," Corran said in a mischievous voice.  "I think I've proven I can keep a secret." 

She couldn't help but smile a little when she met his gaze again.  "That you have," she said.  "And, yes, I do wonder, Corran.  I wonder if I'll ever be worthy of my father's legacy." 

---

Nursing a tumbler of Corellian whiskey, Mara leaned against a pillar in the ballroom.  Her red-gold hair had been styled with a soft wave and hung loosely around her shoulders, and she wore a sleek, form-fitting, sleeveless green dress that matched her eyes.  The plunging neckline and revealing slit along her right leg had caught the notice of many an officer, but secretly she was most pleased that the elegant draping on the dress' high back covered the thin straps of the lightsaber holster concealed beneath the fabric at the small of her back.  

Absentmindedly she ground the point of one of her stiletto heels into the stone floor.  Mara hadn't wanted to come to the ball at all, really, but Leia and Sarré had turned on their ruthless tag-team pestering and had given her no viable option except to concede.  And she had attempted to enjoy herself – she really had.  Yet she couldn't shake her simmering discomfort no matter how much she tried.  She was anxious.  Apprehensive.  Edgy.  Something was wrong – very wrong.  But no amount of effort had identified the source of her unease.  

Mara's eyes scanned the hall.  Near the center of the crowd Bryon was dancing with his aide Kessa Brittin while Sarré laughed at the antics of his friends Will Graff and Cerule Starblaze.  At one of the many tables around the perimeter of the room Leia and Han were seated together, huddled in a jovial conversation.  Amid a group of Jedi apprentices Danaé was smiling broadly while being twirled by Corran Halcyon and Luke in his fancy blue-and-white tuxedo was dancing with… Mara shrugged.  She couldn't see who it was, and really she didn't care. 

No, that was a lie.  She did care.  

Mara stomped her heel into the stone and took a long sip from the tumbler.  As the burning sting of the liquor filled her mouth and throat, she closed her eyes.  Was he avoiding her?  Or did he think she was avoiding him?  A year ago after the disasters on Tatooine and Gimna 3 Luke had promised her they would resolve their feelings for each other once they were Knighted.  When the opportunity to rescue Captain Solo had arisen immediately after their promotions, though, Mara had agreed readily and without regret to fulfill her promise to Leia first.  But now the rescue was over, and after two months apart Luke was acting the same as before.  She knew how strong his feelings were – as clear and true as ever.  Yet at the same time he denied them.  He was holding back.  Rejecting her.  She couldn't understand why.  It didn't make any sense.  

It made her angry.  Really, really angry.  

Mara opened her eyes again as she swallowed the last mouthful of the fiery liquid and smacked the tumbler down on the tray of a very startled waiter.  Her gaze fell on Leia and Han, and a spike of jealousy struck her in the gut.  They had been apart a year, and yet they looked so happy.  She and Luke had not been separated by anything beyond their control, and yet…  She cut off the thought before her fury could boil over completely.  

And in that same instant a haunting chill ran down her spine – a premonition so powerful her whole body shivered.  Leia was in danger.  Mortal danger.  Right here, right now.  

While her mind scrambled to figure out what possibly could be going on, Mara stretched out her awareness into the Force and sought its guidance.  She knew Solo was no threat – that was impossible.  And it seemed entirely implausible that any of the attendees at the ball were planning to assassinate the Senator from Naboo, although Mara wondered how thoroughly some of the officers' guests – who looked suspiciously like professional "escorts" to her – had been screened.  Even as the warning of immediate peril grew ever stronger in her perceptions, she settled her conviction that the threat was not from within the walls of the ballroom itself.  It was something different.  

Indistinct.  Elsewhere – yet immediate.  Elusive.  

Then a vision flashed in her mind's eye, and she lifted her face toward the soaring, slanted ceiling of the ballroom.  Beyond the angled windows high above was the dark nighttime sky of the capital.  And the danger.  

Mara bolted around the column and out into the corridor, racing at top speed toward the turbolift. 


	8. Chapter Six Part 2

C**HAPTER SIX (Part 2 of 2)**

With her Force perceptions on high alert Mara had no difficulty finding the unlocked door to the maintenance passages that would lead her to the roof.  As she ran at full speed down the cramped, dimly lit corridor she reached her left hand down the back of her dress and snatched her weapon from its holster with the Force.  In the next instant she arrived at the round portal that led outside.  When she realized she lacked an access code she wrenched her right hand upward, shattering the locking mechanism with the Force and heaving the metal disc up and out of her path. 

The frigid wind of night blasted her thinly clad body.  Immediately she saw that the durasteel walkway along the ballroom's slanted windows was quite narrow – only a few paces across.  And there was no railing, but only the sheer drop into the oblivion of the infinite depths of Coruscant.  Mara stepped out of her stiletto-heeled shoes and burst barefoot onto the freezing cold metal of the walkway.  She darted quickly along, the light from the ballroom below bringing an eerie glow to her path. 

When she rounded a curve of the building's structure she saw the exact image from her vision – a young, dark-haired man in tight black military fatigues kneeling on the walkway and taking aim with a long-barreled sniper's rifle down at the transparisteel window. 

"Hey!" 

Even before her shout the young man was spinning to face her and squeezing off three shots. 

Mara's hands met in front of her body as her violet laser sword ignited.  Instant snaps and rolls of her two-handed grip easily deflected the blaster bolts away into the gloom.  In the next heartbeat she charged forward, her bare feet clanging on the metal and her hair whipping wildly around her head. 

Her opponent lunged upright and retreated a few paces.  Without warning he stopped in place and let the rifle clatter to the walkway – and ignited a shimmering scarlet lightsaber. 

So he was a Sith.  Glancing down at the discarded rifle, Mara noticed an empty chamber along its top.  She raised her eyebrows in surprise.  That would explain how the sharpshooter's bolts had punctured Bryon's armor so easily on Gimna 3 – and why he felt confident shooting right _through_ transparisteel at Leia. 

In that split-second of her realization the Sith used the Force to fling the rifle straight at her, then charged.

Effortlessly Mara sliced the projectile into four pieces, which flew off into the night and plummeted the hundreds of stories down the side of the skyscraper.  Parrying aside the Sith's first blows with his red blade, she made a mental note that it would be an exceedingly bad idea to fall over the edge of this very narrow walkway. 

---

Sarré followed Bryon's lead as they spun out onto the dance floor.  Subtly she checked the fit of her light dress again, then tugged a bit on the edge of his white jacket to adjust it as well – all the while scanning the room with her eyes.  If anyone could blend back into the celebrating crowd without their absence having been noted, it would be a Naboo handmaiden and a Special Forces officer.  Besides, they'd only been gone for… her eyes searched out the big clock high on the far wall… seven minutes.  That briefly?  She felt the blush rising in her cheeks. 

Bryon winked down at her.  "That sure was a nice surprise." 

"Huh?"  She gazed up at his sparkling brown eyes and realized he meant her half of the mutual surprises that had been promised before they'd departed for the ball.  "Oh, darling," she laughed.  "No.  That wasn't the surprise."

His jaw actually hung open for a moment.  "It wasn't?"

"No, that was spontaneous."  She pulled him against her suggestively and flashed a girlish grin.  "It's possible I've had a bit more brandy than I intended."

"Oh," he said, maybe a bit disconcerted by her confession.  "Then what's the surprise?"

Sarré reached down to the small pouch on the thin belt of the dress, palmed one item of its contents, and passed it invisibly to him.  "_This_ is the surprise."

His eyes dropped down to his tilted palm, then came back to her face as he surreptitiously deposited the item in the pocket of his dress whites trousers.  "My parents know they have Nyklas until the morning?"

"Of course, silly," she giggled.  Yes, she'd definitely had a little too much brandy.  But she was pretty sure Bryon didn't mind her… mood.  The Chancellor's Arms hotel could wait another hour or two, and then she'd make extra sure of it.  He wouldn't mind at all.  Not a chance.

Bryon leaned down and kissed her firmly on the lips.  "This is a nice surprise too."

---

Danaé strode quickly through the deserted corridor of the Jedi Temple.  She'd been looking for an excuse to leave the officers' ball anyway; she'd never liked formal celebrations, and although she'd put on a smile for her fellow Jedi she really hadn't been enjoying herself all that much.  So the buzzing of her comlink had been a welcome relief – until she'd seen the code accompanying Master Windu's request that she return to the Temple: _Greatest Urgency_.  It wasn't an emergency signal, at least, but it sought her presence without delay.  With the help of an air taxi pilot whose astoundingly dangerous flying nearly outdid her father's, she'd made it to the Temple in ten minutes. 

With a few more long strides Danaé arrived at the door Mace had indicated in his message.  The tall Jedi Master's grim frown curled upward into a somber smile when she reached him.  "Thank you for coming, Danaé."

"What's going on?" 

"It's Master Yoda," he said in a quiet voice, tipping his head toward the door behind him.  "He asked to see you."

A million thoughts exploded in Danaé's mind at once.  Master Yoda was here?  In the Temple?  When had he left Dagobah?  And he'd asked to see her?  At this hour?  What in the blazes was going on?

Mace placed a hand on her shoulder, but he let her figure it out for herself. 

After a long moment she did.  Only one possibility explained everything.  "He's dying, isn't he?"

Mace nodded as he waved open the door for her.  He didn't follow her inside. 

Danaé rushed to the small cot in the dimly lit room and knelt on the floor next to it.  The small, ancient green alien was lying on his back, his hands clasped together atop the plain brown blanket.  She put her hand on his.

"Master Yoda?"

He opened his eyes and tilted his face to look at her.  "Ah, Danaé," he said, his voice barely a whisper.  "Wanted to see you I did." 

"I know," she replied softly.  He'd trained and tutored thousands of living Jedi, including her father.  And yet he'd chosen her for a deathbed visit.  "But Master Yoda, why me?"

The wrinkled face smiled broadly and a rasping chuckle escaped his lips.  "Always with you this way it is.  Undeserving you feel.  Inadequate.  Unworthy of the things bestowed upon you."

Danaé nodded.  "I'm sorry."

"Listen to me, my child," he said.  Now his voice was even fainter, and he seemed to be struggling for breath.  "Your father, a powerful Jedi is he.  But someday his time will pass, as mine does now."

"Master Yoda," she exclaimed, not meaning to interrupt him but unable to stop herself, "you can't die!"

"Strong I am with the Force," he whispered.  "But not that strong.  A good life I have lived.  No regrets trouble me.  I am the past.  The present your father is."  Master Yoda coughed and grimaced in pain.  "The future you are."

"Yes, Master," Danaé said through her tears.

"You and Luke… Mara… and Nyklas…"  He took a hitching deep breath.  "For the Jedi… the future… you are.  Danaé… Be proud…  a Sky… a Skywa… walker… you are."  And then Master Yoda's eyes closed. 

For a long time Danaé sat on her haunches, crying.  She couldn't comprehend why Yoda had chosen her, and as much as she tried to understand it, she couldn't.  Finally she did the only thing she could – trust his judgment, as so many Jedi before her had done.  She pulled the simple brown blanket up and covered the peaceful, blissful face. 

Rising to her feet, she paced listlessly into the hallway.  "He's gone."

"I know," Mace said simply.  He pulled her into an embrace and held her close.  "The rest of the Order will be told in the morning.  In the meantime there are arrangements to be made.  You're welcome to assist me."

Danaé wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.  "I'd like that," she said.  "Thank you."

---

Han was gulping air as he let Leia drag him off the dance floor.  The latest tango from the orchestra had been the fastest yet, and without a thought for propriety Han wiped the sweat from his forehead with the white sleeve of his free arm.  Hopefully the next few tunes would be slower, or he might have to beg for a reprieve.  And right now that was the last thing he wanted to tell Leia. 

Fortunately a waiter came by at just that moment, and Leia snagged them a pair of enormous glasses of water.  "Here," she said through her own rapid breaths. 

"Thanks," he rasped, sloshing the word past a mouthful of the cool, refreshing liquid. 

After they had drained the glasses and foisted them off on another server, Leia took his hand.  She leaned into him and looked up.  "Are you having fun?" 

"Of course, Princess," he said.  "It's always fun to hang around with you."

She smiled.  "You don't have to say that if you don't mean it.  I know parties like this aren't usually your idea of a good time.  If you don't want to stay, we don't have to."

"Thanks, but we should for a while," Han said.  "I have a lot of catching up to do.  I should stick around for that."

"Fine with me."

"And what exactly _do_ you think I consider a good time?"

Before Leia could answer, a slap on the back and a familiar voice greeted him.  "Solo, old friend, welcome back!"

Han turned to his side to see a fellow officer with an unfamiliar blonde on his arm.  "Wedge, great to see you.  It's good to be back."

"I'm sure it is," Wedge said.  "Some other time you'll have to tell me all about Jabba's digs."

"It's not as interesting as it sounds, believe me," Han laughed.  He tipped his head toward Leia.  "I believe you've met Senator Leia Skywalker of Naboo?"

"Yes," Wedge said, bowing formally to her.  "It's nice to see you, Senator.  Give your brother Luke my regards.  Rogue Squadron just hasn't been the same without him."

"I'll be sure to pass that along," she replied with a chuckle.  "I think he really regretted having to return to the Jedi Temple after flying with you, Captain Antilles.  I shudder to think what your missions must be like, if they satisfy Luke's ridiculous thrill-seeking."

Wedge winked.  "It's best we leave you in the dark, Senator.  Han, Leia, I'd like you to meet Iella Wessiri."

Following etiquette, Han allowed Leia to go first, then shook the attractive blonde's hand.  "So tell me, Iella," he said with a mischievous grin, "are you with Rogue Squadron?"

"Oh, no," Iella laughed robustly.  "Certainly not.  I'm with Republic Intelligence."

"Intelligence?"  Han raised his eyebrows and looked at Wedge.  "You don't hear that in the same thought with Wedge very often." 

"Funny, Solo," Wedge grumbled.  "Very funny."

Just then Leia elbowed Han lightly in the side and tipped her head toward a couple approaching from across the room.  "Who's that couple coming over here?  They look familiar." 

Han's eyes immediately snapped to the pair she was indicating, but before he could point out that the woman was one of the galaxy's most famous holodrama stars Leia elbowed him again – harder this time.  "Wait!  I do recognize her," she exclaimed.  "That's Wynssa Starflare, isn't it?  But who could that be with her?"

Han swallowed his retort about Leia's underwhelming skill at celebrity recognition.  It was Wynssa Starflare all right.  No doubt about it – even an instantaneous glance could tell you that.  And on the stunningly gorgeous blonde's arm, leading her toward them, was… 

"Fel," he spat.

"Who?"

"Soontir Fel.  Still trying to outdo me."  They had been classmates at the Academy, rivals from day one.  When Han had graduated valedictorian, Fel had been salutatorian.  Barely.  To this day Fel insisted Han had cheated – somehow, sometime – to beat him out.  Like Han, Fel was Corellian.  Like Han, he was not from the planet's wealthy elite.  Fel came from a family of farmers, hardly the most respected or lucrative profession on Corellia.  Like Han, his piloting skills had been noticed fortuitously by a flight instructor from the Academy, and the same scholarship and stipend program that had funded Han's education had given Fel the opportunity to follow his dreams without burdening his family.  There the similarities ended.  For all of Han's bravado, rashness, and wit, Fel was stoic, meticulous, and grim. 

"Oh," Leia said.  "The one you're always complaining about?"

"The one and the same," he confirmed.  "Don't mind me, Princess, but Wynssa looks mighty –"

"Hey!" interrupted Wedge angrily.  "That's my sister you're ogling."

Han laughed.  "Right.  Nice try, buddy."

"No, really, she's my sister," Wedge insisted.  "Dinner at the Sleeping Bantha says she is."

"You're on."  Han smirked at Wedge, then put on an immediate scowl as his rival and the actress arrived at their group of four.  "Fel."

"Solo," the other man said flatly, then turned almost imperceptibly.  "Wedge."

"Soontir."  Wedge took a long stride and kissed the holodrama star brazenly on the cheek.  "Hello, sis."

The dazzling beauty chuckled.  "Another wager, Wedge?  And this time at poor Captain Solo's expense?"

Han's heart skipped a beat at the thought that Wynssa Starflare knew who he was.  The next instant a pang of guilt rocked his stomach and he wrapped an arm around Leia to make it go away. 

Starflare turned to face him.  "I'm terribly sorry, Captain Solo, but it's true.  My real name is Syal Antilles, and I really am Wedge's sister."

Han shook his head in disbelief.  "I guess you got all the good looks genes, huh?"

While Starflare – Wedge's sister – laughed, Fel glowered.  "A comedian as always, Solo.  Bravo."

"Oh, come on, Soontir," Wedge chuckled at his own expense.  "Lighten up a little."

With complete sincerity Fel said, "This is light."

When the three couples went their separate ways on the dance floor a few minutes later, Leia gazed up into Han's eyes and smiled.  "Wedge must be jealous."

Han tilted his head.  "Why's that?"

"Fel's date is one of the most famous holodrama stars in the galaxy.  Yours is a Galactic Senator.  And his is an intelligence agent."

"That's Wedge all right," he chuckled.  "Never the flashiest.  Never gets the glory.  But…"

When his voice trailed off, she stretched up and kissed him on the cheek.  "But what?"

"But he always gets it right."

---

The Sith sliced high and low, his attacks clashing against Mara's purple blade with ear-splitting screeches and blows of tremendous strength. 

But Mara knew immediately she held the advantage.  The Sith's technique was solid overall, but it was choppy and a bit wild.  Not smooth and controlled – not like Mara's mastery of Vaapad.  When his next strike collided with her parry near her right leg she rolled her wrists, powered her muscles with the Force, and drove the two squealing lightsabers in a complete arc up and over their heads and down again. 

She could see the panic on the Sith's face as he tried in vain to free his weapon from hers.  The walkway scattered sparks as her maneuver propelled the red blade all the way into the durasteel beneath their feet.

Before the Sith could react Mara spun into a roundhouse kick that pounded her enemy squarely in his chest, her bare foot smashing into his ribs with all her strength – and then some. 

The black-clad young man flew backward in the air and smacked roughly into the walkway.  His head took a crisp bounce off the metal surface, but somehow he managed to keep his grip on his scarlet laser sword. 

Mara's bounding strides reach him just as the Sith sprang to his feet again.  She struck to his left side, then his right, then his left again.  Now his parries were out of position – and she took advantage.  She slid her blade along the length of his and downward, cutting a deep wound into his left leg. 

The Sith cried out in agony but did not collapse.  Wildly he swung at Mara's neck. 

She swatted the reckless attack aside with pathetic ease, shoving his red blade to her right with complete control.  Then she snapped her wrists and freed her lightsaber again. 

The Sith's eyes widened in shock when her two-handed swing across her body sliced through the handle of his laser sword.  The scarlet blade winked out of existence, and the young man now held only a silver tube with wisps of smoke rising from it.  A scream of horror erupted from the Sith as he watched the tip of her violet blade loop around and arc upward – a scream that ended abruptly when she decapitated him in a single swift blow. 

Mara howled in triumph as the headless corpse of the Sith slumped over, the momentum of her fatal swing tipping the body off the edge of the walkway in a tumbling freefall into the infinite shadows of darkness below her. 

Then she realized her heartbeat was racing and her breathing was ragged.  Deactivating her blade, she took a series of slow, deep breaths.  Carefully returning the glittering silver handle to the holster down the back of her thin dress, Mara also realized she was freezing.  She crossed her bare arms over her chest and hurried back to the open portal to the maintenance hallway. 

As she wiggled her toes back into her heeled shoes, she cast a final glance out into the night.  There was no evidence the Sith had ever been there – everything tangible was lost to the winds and depths of the city.  No one might ever know what had happened here tonight but her.  Mara shivered fiercely from the chill pervading her body.

She smirked to herself.  At least she knew who could make her feel warm. 

---****

Anakin gazed out the window of the nursery into the dark nighttime cityscape of Coruscant, and his eyes drifted in the direction of the Senate complex where the officers' ball was being held.  He hoped the children were enjoying themselves tonight – they certainly deserved to after everything they'd been through in the last two years. 

He closed his eyes and stretched his awareness into the Force, allowing the currents of life energy to flow unimpeded through his mind.  No dark premonitions haunted him.  No chilling warnings cried out.  No grave visions reached his perceptions.  Yet all the same he sensed the rapidly approaching convergence of countless paths of fate – the shatterpoint in the conflict between Jedi and Sith, the end of the Vyhrragian war, and the future of his family.  Soon it all would be decided.  Soon.  Very soon. 

Without apprehension Anakin knew victory would not come easily – there would be a cost.  Probably a high cost.  But if that was what destiny – the will of the Force – had in store for the Skywalkers, then it was his duty to ensure that victory was achieved no matter the price.  For in his contemplations of his failure a year ago at Gimna 3 he at last had seen past his final weakness as a Jedi – his selfishness.  A Jedi's duty was to serve the will of the Force by subverting personal desires and ambitions to the greater good: the Republic, the Jedi Order, peace, and justice.  Most of his life Anakin had done this without regret.  But in some ways he never had been a true Jedi, because his attachments to his family gave him bonds more powerful than duty.  And sometimes, as he had on Gimna 3, he acted not from selfless duty but from a selfish purpose to protect his family.  That selfishness had led him straight to the darkness, first in his youth and again in his maturity.  Now that he finally had admitted this truth to himself after all these years, his self-awareness was complete. 

He would not fail again, because he would not choose selfishness over selflessness again. 

And even if that meant someone close to him would die, he would not abrogate his duty by trying – in vain – to save them.  That was the lesson Gimna 3 had taught him, the one lesson his Jedi Mastery had been missing.  He was not all-powerful.  He was not capable of defeating death.  Destiny would present the conditions under which he would have to act, and provide him the choices he would have to make.  He long since had abandoned any belief that the Force had a single plan for the future of the galaxy, or that free will was powerless against the wheels of fortune.  And so in this moment he knew that the fates of the Jedi and the Sith, the war, and his family depended solely on the choices to be made in the coming days.

He knew with certainty that when the time came for him to play his part, he would choose rightly. 

This time he would choose his duty. 

Behind him the door to the nursery slid open and Padmé paced inside with Nyklas bundled up in her arms and a forlorn grimace on her face.  Their grandson was screeching like an enraged acklay and flailing his arms with reckless abandon.  Anakin turned around and strode to her side just as Padmé's chin dodged another swing. 

"No luck," she said.  "Walking.  Singing.  Music.  Bouncing.  Going outside.  Nothing worked."

Anakin reached out and stroked the infant's cheek with two fingers.  "What's wrong, O Grand Obstreperous One?  What great ill afflicts thee?" 

In reply Nyklas screamed at the top of his lungs right in Anakin's face. 

"Very well, then," Anakin chuckled.  He closed his eyes and brushed his perceptions over the baby's bright, if slightly crazed, Force presence.  He opened his eyes again and kissed Padmé's forehead.  "Nothing's wrong that I can tell.  I guess he's just grumpy."

"Too much Skywalker blood," Padmé muttered. 

Anakin knew better than to respond to that particular remark.  He took Nyklas from her arms and carried him to the basinet.  Once the squirming infant was safely on his back among the blankets, Anakin extended a hand in the air.  From a bowl on a high shelf across the room five brightly colored orbs – red, blue, green, yellow, and purple – floated gently to him.  Anakin's fingers could stretch to hold three at a time, making the spheres too large to fit in a baby's mouth despite all four of his children's indefatigable attempts to prove otherwise in their infancy.  Using the Force he began to spin the balls in circles lazily in the air over the basinet.  Slowly at first, in simple orbits.  Then faster, in more complicated patterns.  After a minute the quintet of sparkling orbs zoomed with amazing intricacy over Nyklas's head. 

As expected the mesmerized infant forgot what he was protesting and began to coo at the wonderful display taking place just beyond the reach of his tiny arms. 

Padmé scooted her body between Anakin and the basinet, and he wrapped his arms around her waist.  She sighed contentedly as she nestled her head against his shoulder. 

"Did I set that shirt out for you?" she asked, her voice calm and hushed. 

He glanced down and realized they were wearing matching informal tunics from their respective collections of traditional Naboo attire.  He smiled happily.  "No.  I picked this all by myself." 

She grinned too.  "I guess it was the will of the Force."

"Exactly," he laughed.  "I closed my eyes, and when I opened them again this was in my hand."

Padmé shook her head in bemusement.  Then she took a deep breath and leaned into him.  "They're accusing me of seizing dictatorial powers, you know."

"I know," he said quietly.  It wasn't just the sensationalist Holonet reporters this time; some Senators were raising similar allegations.  "But they're wrong about you.  You know that and I know that.  You made the right decision."

"Did I?"  She turned around and buried her face in his chest.  "Maybe there was another way."

"Sure there was," he said.  "You could've dissolved the Senate and called new elections.  You're much more popular than most individual Senators are.  You could've swept the place clean if you'd wanted."

She looked up at him suddenly.  "I would never do that.  Not just for my own political gain."

"Of course not, angel," he soothed.  "My point is there are always other ways.  The only thing we can do is make the best decision we can with integrity and judgment.  And that's what you did."

"I guess so," she said, unconvinced.  "My last opportunity to cancel the implementation of Bryon's plan was tonight.  I didn't cancel it.  There's no going back now."

He smiled to himself at the way she always referred to the plan as their son's even though Bryon was only one of a half dozen military tacticians who had created it.  "I have faith in you, angel, and in him.  It's a well-conceived plan.  It was the only choice you could make, given all the other unfavorable alternatives."

"I'm trying to believe that, Ani, I really am," she said.  "But what if it doesn't work?"

"It'll work."

She leaned up and kissed him, a long and firm gesture of appreciation.  Then she gazed down at the basinet, where Nyklas now was deep in slumber beneath the swirling spheres.  There was a twinkle in Padmé's eyes when she looked up at him again.  "You know… the baby is asleep…" 

Anakin raised his eyebrows. 

"… and no one else is home," she whispered in his ear, her murmured seductions stirring fond memories of the often outrageous ways a pair of giddy young parents had snuck some privacy two decades ago.  "It'll be at least an hour until we'd even have to –"

Before she could say anything more he cut her off with an unrelenting kiss, scooped her into his arms, and carried her out the door.  In the nursery the orbs continued to spin, and Nyklas continued to sleep. 

---

Luke was drinking down the last of his tall glass of ale when Mara appeared suddenly at his side.  "Hey," he said.  "I've been looking for you."

A single red-gold eyebrow rose dubiously.  "Really?"

"Yeah, really."  Luke's own eyebrows rose as he appraised her – her dress was rumpled, her hair frizzed out wildly, her amply exposed bare skin covered in a thin sheen of perspiration.  "Been having some fun?"

"Not the kind you're thinking."  Mara grinned.  "Not yet, anyway.  I just went out to get some air."

"Oh."

"Why?  Would you have been jealous if I had?"

Luke felt the heat rising in his face, and gulped.  "Yes."

Without warning Mara grasped his hands in hers and kissed him on the cheek.  "We haven't had that talk you've been promising me for ages, Skywalker.  So how _was_ I supposed to know that, exactly?"

"You're freezing," he said, his nod the only acknowledgement of the validity of her point.  Her hands were cold to the touch, and the peck of her icy lips had made him shiver. 

She pulled him flush against her body as she dragged him out onto the dance floor.  "Warm me up, then."

Luke saw the mischievous twinkle in her green eyes and knew she had expectations beyond dancing – and all his fears and doubts that screamed he couldn't let her love him came roaring back in a torrent of apprehension.  "Um… all right," he sputtered as they merged gracefully into the giddy, rollicking crowd.  "But what about… I thought…"

Mara silenced him with a frozen finger on his lips.  "Shut up, Luke," she said.  "We can talk in the morning." 

---

Bryon held Sarré close as they danced to a sedate, soothing ballad of love from Alderaan.  Although he knew they both were struggling to contain their impatience to be on their way, he really was enjoying this simple moment.  In her arms, with the music calming his thoughts, he could forget about the war and the Army and everything in the galaxy except Sarré and Nyklas.  Their son.  He hadn't seen him in weeks – and wouldn't again tonight.  He smiled into Sarré's luscious locks of blonde hair.  He didn't mind the wait; he had a lifetime with his son to look forward to. 

"Bryon?"  Her voice was nearly inaudible with her faced pressed tightly against his jacket. 

"Yes, my love?"

"You're doing okay, right?"  Her arms squeezed him even tighter.  "You'd tell me if you were having trouble?"

"I would," he said quietly into her ear.  "No more secrets.  I'm fine.  I promise."

She tilted her face and looked closely into his eyes.  "The Senate's adjourned."

He knew instantly what she meant.  "I don't think that's a good idea."

"We can't live our lives in fear, Bryon," she whispered.  "Together.  Apart.  There are never any guarantees.  We have to have faith that we'll be there for Nyklas, the way your parents have always been there for you.  They didn't live their lives in fear of orphaning their children, and we shouldn't either."  She stretched up to kiss him tenderly on the lips.  "I want to be on your mission team for Vyhrrag.  I want to be at your side when you end this."

Bryon closed his eyes for a long moment.  How was it, he wondered, that he could face down impossible odds in battle with limitless courage, but he surrendered without so much as a pretense of opposition to anything Sarré desired, no matter how outrageous?  With a helpless mental shrug he swallowed his fear.  He opened his eyes again and kissed her on the forehead.  "I can't deny you, and you know that.  If you have faith, I'll have faith too."  He sighed deeply.  "As you wish."

"Thank you, Bryon.  You won't regret this.  I promise."  Just then the ballad ended, and she began to guide him off the dance floor.  "Are you ready?"

The pang of anticipation that jolted his entire body was all the answer he needed.  "I sure am."

"Me too."  She tugged him insistently toward the exit.  "Let's go." 

---

Without an overcoat to ward off the icy wind whipping around them on the outdoor landing platform, Leia shivered constantly even with Han's arms around her.  Minutes ago the air taxi had let them out on this public platform of the towering skyscraper housing the Skywalker residence many stories above, and the pilot was waiting patiently for Leia to say good night and Han to board again and be on his way.  Yet still they stood in the same spot in the same tight embrace.  He hadn't moved to leave, and she hadn't suggested he should. 

She shivered again and squeezed him firmly.  "Han?"

"Yeah?"

She tilted her face up.  "I meant what I said before."

His frosty cheek brushed against hers.  "You're sure?"

"Yes," she whispered over the howling gusts.  "If it's too fast, I won't be hurt."

"And if I want to stay?"

She ran her hands up and down his back.  "I spent a year trying to find you, and thousands of credits.  I risked my life to get you out of there, and dragged my brother and my friend along too.  I wouldn't have done that if… if I didn't…"  Her breath caught in her throat, and she swallowed hard.  "If I didn't think you would feel the same way about me when I finally got back to you.  So if you say you do, then I believe you."

"You're sure?"

Finally she understood.  He wasn't hesitant about his feelings after all – he was hesitant about whether she believed him, and whether that would be good enough for her.  She did, and it was.  It was more than enough.  All she had wanted for a year was to have him back, and know that he loved her.  Leia leaned to the side and waved the air taxi driver off.  As the departing repulsor drive roared she took Han's hand and without a word led him toward the door at the far end of the platform. 

---

Given the very late hour of night – more accurately, the very early hour of morning – Danaé was certain she was the last one to arrive back at the residence.  With her assigned Jedi airspeeder docked in their secured hangar, she strode off the turbolift and into the side corridor of the residence.  Muffling her footfalls with the Force she headed to the kitchen for a glass of water. 

Sitting at the table with the cool drink in her hand, she decided she really wasn't tired.  She probably should try to sleep, but she knew she wouldn't.  The sense of loss was too great.  Plus, she'd probably have to lock down…

Danaé closed her eyes and projected a thin tendril of her awareness toward the hallway with the sleeping chambers.  Sure enough she immediately detected the rough, indistinct radiances in the Force that would indicate the presences of three couples – and she instantly withdrew her perceptions back to her own body before any more information of any kind arrived.  She'd confirmed her suspicions.  That was all she wanted to know. 

For a moment her mind lingered on the number: three.  Sarré had told her about the surprise for Bryon, so that meant…  Danaé shook her head and pushed the thoughts away.  If they were happy, it was none of her business. 

When she finished off the water, Danaé made her decision.  She rose from the chair and walked deliberately to the nursery.  Carefully she silenced the opening of the door and contained her own presence in the Force to ensure her arrival did not disturb the slumbering Force-sensitive infant.  Without a sound she paced to the basinet and gazed down on her little brother's baby boy – her nephew. 

For a long time she simply watched Nyklas sleeping.  It was a miraculous sight to behold.  And the idea that someday this tiny baby would be a grown man – a Jedi Knight, like her – was almost unfathomable.

Danaé clasped her hands behind her back, closed her eyes, and began to meditate.  She was at peace, but her mind wasn't clear.  She couldn't help but wonder.  Would she have a child of her own someday?  Or would she, like Obi-Wan and Yoda before her, be a Jedi – but an outsider to the most intimate kind of family?  Would her feelings for Corran ever be anything more than the deep friendship forged in the inferno of a few reckless weeks of grief and despair nearly two years ago?  Would she ever know love like Luke and Mara or her father and mother did? 

Would she ever have a husband – and a son?

In the back of her mind Danaé already knew the only possible answers: to trust in herself and the Force, and let the future come to her. 

---

It was well before dawn.  The slim figure in a skin-tight black flight suit emerged from the private turbolift into the dimly lit secured docking bay of the Skywalker residence.  Quickly she crossed the wide floor to the _Lady Vader_, the Jedi Master's unique starship.  Walking beneath the gray metal exterior she paused at a small keypad and tapped in a code.  With a soft whir the boarding ramp of the vessel began to lower to the floor. 

But she did not board yet.  She waited. 

She'd had another vision.  This one far worse – far more troubling – than the flash of insight she'd had hours earlier at the officers' ball.  No, this one had been intense, extensive, and painfully vivid.  When she'd finally awakened from the nightmare, her heart had been pounding and she'd been drenched in sweat.  She'd extracted herself from his arms and hushed him back to sleep with assurances she only was going to use the refresher. 

But that had been a lie.  She'd gone out to the terrace to ponder the vision, and she'd concluded that she had no choice.  Her vision at the ball had saved Leia's life without a moment to spare.  This one…  It was imperative that she act immediately.  If she didn't…  She couldn't even comprehend that possibility. 

She'd thought about asking him to join her, if only for a moment.  But she'd brushed the idea aside.  True, she'd told him they could talk in the morning.  But would it have killed him once during their night of passion – just once – to say that he loved her?  Even if he wasn't ready to go before the Council.  Even if he wasn't ready to tell his family – no, their family; she was part of his family too, and had been for years.  Even if he thought they weren't meant for each other – and the idiot might just be mad enough to think that.  Would it have killed him to admit in words how he felt?  She could sense it plainly enough in the Force.  How could she commit to him – really and truly believe in him – if he couldn't even say those simple words? 

Why wouldn't he just say it? 

Blast him and his need to talk.  In the morning he could talk all he liked – she just wouldn't be there to hear it.  Too bad.  He'd had his chance. 

She slammed her black-gloved fist against the starship's hull.  She would go alone.  If he didn't really love her, then he didn't deserve to be at her side.  And if the Force hadn't shared these visions with anyone else, then it must be her destiny and hers alone to fulfill them.  For some reason the Force had chosen her as the one to save Leia, even though Leia's twin had been in the same room.  And again the Force had chosen her, even though this second vision seemed more suited to Anakin's attachments than hers. 

She was a Jedi Knight now – and last night she had slain a Sith Lord, not that she'd told anyone about it.  Although the Jedi Council formally had the prerogative of assigning her missions, her greater duty was to the will of the Force.  And the Force had spoken to her more directly than it ever had in her entire life. 

The small travel bag slung over her shoulder contained her neatly folded Jedi robes, but the sinking loneliness in her gut had compelled her to wear the black flight suit instead.  He wasn't joining her.  Her former Master wasn't joining her either.  She reached down for the lightsaber on her hip and found a tiny bit of reassurance in the simple gesture.  She was going alone. 

All alone.  That was her future, it seemed.  To be alone in the universe, forever.

From across the docking bay she heard the grumpy whistle and trill she'd been expecting. 

"Sleep?  You're a droid, Jaytoo," she laughed as he trundled up to her.  "You don't need sleep."

The black-and-gold astromech honked.  "Whatever you say.  Are you fully charged or not?"

The droid blooped and toodled.  "Then quit complaining," she chuckled.  "At least Threepio's not coming along."

Jaytoo whistled a pleased salute, then beeped a puzzled query.  "We'll be flying for a while, and this is more comfortable than Jedi robes," she lied.  "All right?"

The droid blooped another question.  She leaned down to face him directly.  "Artoo Jaytoo Override Code: Twelve-Sixty-Four-Amidala, Two-Nine-Fifteen-Naberrie, Eleven-Thirty-Eight-Jade."

For a long moment the droid whirred quietly.  Then he beeped and blooped his readiness. 

"Come on," Mara said, motioning a black-gloved hand toward the boarding ramp of the _Lady Vader_.  "Let's get out of here before anyone notices we're missing."


	9. Chapter Seven

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

"Padmé, you're pacing again."

Supreme Chancellor Amidala spun around from the wide window of her ceremonial office to face the old friend seated across her desk.  "Sorry," she said.  "It seems to be a habit of mine lately."

Bail Organa smiled knowingly.  "I can see that."

Padmé scowled in mock outrage.  "Would you prefer I became a spice addict?  I hear they're quite mellow most of the time."

"That has possibilities," he said with a straight face.  "Although I doubt Anakin would approve."

"No, I suppose he wouldn't."

"Listen to me carefully, Padmé," he said gently.  "You did what you had to do.  You couldn't let the Senate interfere in the war any longer.  So many have already died.  So many have already suffered.  You made the right decision."

She sighed.  "Your certainty is disconcerting, you know.  I adjourned the Senate indefinitely, Bail.  I didn't just postpone a vote or table a motion.  I suspended democratic governance."

"I remember the burdens of this office, Padmé."  Bail looked hard into her eyes.  "I would have made the same decision."

"You can't know that," she said.  "Maybe there was another way.  Maybe if I had fought harder to –"

"Enough," he interrupted.  "Enough.  The power you invoked is perfectly legal.  It's been part of the Chancellor's authority for centuries.  It is used rarely, to be sure, but you're not the first Supreme Chancellor to need it.  You won't be the last.  Keep this crisis in perspective."

Padmé crossed her arms over her chest.  "You're acting as though this isn't a significant action."

"And you're acting as if you've carried out some horrible coup.  Don't think so highly of yourself.  The Republic has survived Chancellors far more corrupt or far more malicious than you."

Their eyes met, but they left unsaid their memories of how close Palpatine – Darth Sidious – had come to destroying the Republic two decades ago, and of the long years it had taken Bail to repair that damage as Palpatine's successor.  "I know," she said after a long moment.  "You're right.  I'm sorry."

"Not to mention," Bail said, "how well I know you.  This isn't only about the Senate.  There's something more going on.  Something secret."

Padmé nodded weakly. 

"Ah, yes, of course," he laughed.  "This is you, after all.  Secret – and extremely risky."

She scowled again, this time not in jest.  "It's not funny."

The voice that spoke next wasn't Bail's.  "What's not funny?"

Padmé looked up to see Sabé marching into the office with Nalé and Jenny on her heels, and chuckled.  "Bail is mocking me."

"You probably deserved it," Sabé said. 

Padmé threw up her hands.  "Now that we've all had our fun at Chancellor Amidala's expense, can we please move on to the real business of this office?"

Bail and Sabé looked at each other and shrugged.

"Thank you," Padmé said. 

"You know where to find me," Bail said as he rose to his feet.  After Padmé nodded, he tipped his head politely to the new arrivals and strode quickly out the door.

Padmé smiled warmly at Nalé.  "You look well."

"I am.  Thank you," Sabé's younger daughter said.  The seventeen-year-old girl, who only two years ago had insisted she had no interest in politics, was now a royal handmaiden – just like her mother all those years ago.  "Queen Vivonia sends her greetings."

Padmé nodded.  "Our monarch is well, I trust?"

"She is," Nalé said.  "She also asked me to convey her full support for your recent action, and to express her complete faith in your leadership.  The people of Naboo stand behind you once more."

"Please thank the Queen for her words," Padmé said.  Then she shook her head.  "I know the Queen means well, but her _parents_ are barely old enough to remember the blockade crisis.  She's making me feel old."

Nalé grinned.  "I'll just tell her the thanks part."

Padmé laughed.  "I appreciate that."

"Speaking of the real business of this office," Jenny said pointedly, "it's time to go.  As it is I've let you cut it close for getting us to Corulag in time."

"Then let's be on our way," Padmé agreed.  "You have the latest version of the address?"

"Of course," Jenny replied.  "Is there anything else you need?"

Padmé glanced over to Sabé. 

"No," her dear friend groaned.  "You'll be gone a few hours.  No changes of clothes.  No work to be done.  Nothing.  Get on the transport, finish the blasted speech on the way, and I'll have a status memo ready for you for the flight back.  Can you handle that?"

Padmé winked.  "I think so."

"Wonderful," Sabé said, waving her hand dismissively.  "Now get going."

Padmé followed Jenny out of the ceremonial office and into the corridor of the suite.  "You know," she chuckled as they walked speedily along, "I think I need to remind Sabé that I'm the one who's the Supreme Chancellor."

Jenny chuckled too.  "I'll make a note of it.  First item on the agenda when we get back – Put Bellion In Her Place."

Padmé wrapped an arm around her friend's shoulders.  "Excellent.  Item two – Remind Anakin Who's Boss.  He's overdue by now, don't you think?"

They both burst out laughing as the main doors of the Chancellor's office swished open in front of them. 

---

Anakin smiled at the two female Jedi Masters standing with him in the wide, brightly lit docking bay of the Galactic Senate building.  "He likes you."

With a broad grin on her face Barriss Offee glanced up from the bundled infant in her arms.  "How can you tell?"

Anakin laughed.  "Mostly he screams at new people.  For you, he's quiet."

"Maybe so," Aayla Secura put in, "but he's _looking_ at me."

The golden-skinned Mirialan woman met the Twi'lek's gaze sternly.  "You're _blue_, Aayla.  Of _course_ he's staring at you."

Anakin shook his head.  "If this is going to be a problem…"

"No," the two Masters said simultaneously. 

"Very well, then."  He leaned down closer to Nyklas.  The baby boy giggled, and a tiny hand reached out to bat Anakin on the side of his face.  With a finger Anakin ruffled the thin strands of dark hair on his grandson's mostly bald head.  "Now listen, Nyklas.  I expect you to be on your best behavior with Barriss and Aayla.  They're doing your grandfather a big favor.  Don't ruin it for me.  Understand?"

Nyklas' wide indigo eyes blinked a few times. 

"Thank you," Anakin said, kissing the boy gently on his forehead.  Then he stood up straight again and briefly put a hand on each woman's shoulder.  "And thank you as well.  This really means a lot to Padmé, to know she's leaving Nyklas in such capable hands."

"Of course," Aayla said.  "It's our pleasure."

Barriss nodded.  "Has there been any word from Mara?"

"No," Anakin said.  "I'm afraid not."

Barriss frowned.  "What do you think happened?  It's not like her to disappear without any explanation – especially before a mission like this one.  And to steal your ship…"

Despite himself, Anakin laughed.  "She may have _borrowed_ my ship, but that tells me whatever she's up to, she believes she's doing her duty as a Jedi."

Aayla furrowed her brow, and her lekku twitched.  "How do you figure that?"

"If she went rogue," he said slowly, "she wouldn't want to keep around any connections to the Jedi – or to me.  No, this is something different.  I'm not sure what, but something.  Some form of guidance from the Force, most likely."

"We will defer to your judgment on this," Barriss said.  "For now, it is not the Council's concern."

"Thank you.  I have faith in Mara.  She won't let you down."  Just then Anakin sensed Padmé's imminent arrival at the docking bay.  "I'm sorry," he said in a rush, "but my wife is almost here.  I'd better go meet her."

Aayla grinned mischievously.  "Yes, my friend, you'd better."

Barriss smiled too.  "We'll take good care of Nyklas, I promise.  May the Force be with you, Anakin."

Already striding rapidly away, Anakin turned back and waved a half-salute.  "And also with you."

---

Bryon activated the holographic projector in the center of the circular auditorium and began the mission briefing for the nearly two hundred gathered soldiers and pilots. 

"The operation now underway is called Victory Strike," he explained, gesturing toward the green-and-blue image of a planet.  "Our target is the enemy capital planet of Vyhrrag."

A rumble of surprise rolled through the room.

"The principal component of the plan is a deployment of Navy warships," he continued.  "From a series of secret rendezvous points across the Republic small strike forces will make hyperspace jumps to the edge of Vyhrragian-controlled space.  They then will make coordinated, simultaneous jumps to Vyhrrag itself to form a massive invasion fleet.  The warships in our flotilla are but one small part of that fleet."

Another startled murmur passed through the gathered team.

"Our fleet will be considerably larger than the defensive force Argis maintains around the planet.  The Navy will overwhelm the enemy warships and the orbital defenses, then proceed immediately with selective orbital bombardments and the landing of four divisions of infantry and support forces.  By seizing the enemy's command-and-control infrastructure, we will conquer the planet and compel a complete surrender."

This time the reaction was nods of satisfaction and confident whispers. 

"None of this can succeed, however," Bryon said calmly, "until the first part of Victory Strike is carried out."

He tapped a button, and a red spherical shell formed around the representation of the planet.  "Vyhrrag is protected by a planetary energy shield.  Neither the Navy's missions nor the landings of the Army forces can occur while the shield is in place.  Accordingly, the goal of my team is to take down the shield."

A round of hoots and cheers rose from his personal platoon of Special Forces soldiers behind him.  Infiltrate-and-destroy missions always had been their favorite.

Bryon tapped the button again, and the image zoomed in on a location on the northern continent.  "The shield generator is located in an isolated area of dense forest approximately one hundred kilometers from the capital city and Argis' royal palace.  Using stolen enemy codes obtained by the Intelligence Department, the freighter carrying our shuttle will gain passage through the planetary shield.  During the descent our shuttle will be released from the cargo hold.  Relying on expert piloting and a sophisticated package of signal-jamming technology, we will land in the forest without being detected."

The skeptical muttering was back again.

Bryon glanced over to the side.  "Captain Solo has volunteered to fly the shuttle."

Han tipped his head in a self-conscious acknowledgement.

"After the landing," Bryon continued, "my team and one squad of the Special Forces will head directly for the shield generator complex.  The other three squads of Special Forces will deploy in an extended perimeter around our path to provide surveillance and defense as we move through the forest.  We will converge again at the shield generator for the final attack."

Bryon gazed quickly around the room.  Most of the Navy pilots and Army officers still were looking at him dubiously.  His Special Forces troopers, on the other hand, were grinning confidently.  Han was huddled in a whispered conversation with Leia, Lando, and Chewbacca while next to them Luke and Danaé sat impassively with Threepio and Artoo.

Sarré, of course, was lost in the dreamy gaze she always got when she watched him give military briefings.

Bryon swallowed his chuckle by clearing his throat.  "Let me turn the briefing over to my team's operative from the Intelligence Department to give you the final details."

The petite young woman in black fatigues stepped forward.  If it weren't for her white hair, Bryon thought, she would be a nearly identical double for Leia. 

"Thank you," she said.  "As General Skywalker explained, I will be accompanying his team for the shield generator attack.  My code name is Targeter."

A few ripples of recognition passed around the room.

"I have been assigned to this mission because of my perfect memory," Targeter continued.  "Approximately three weeks ago I was inserted on Vyhrrag and gained access to the shield generator compound.  In addition, I acquired full schematics of the facility.  Thanks to this knowledge we now will be able to execute the most efficient strike possible against the generator."

Bryon noticed quite a few surprised soldiers and pilots around the room.  If this agent could infiltrate a facility as secure as Argis' shield generator, she must be one of the most talented operatives in the Department.  Bryon knew she was even better than that.  After a long stint planning war strategy on Coruscant during his recovery from the devastating wounds that almost had killed him, a few months ago he finally had begun leading real combat missions again – and Targeter's assistance had been crucial to his victory in the very first one.

"Despite these advantages," Targeter said after she had elaborated more on the nature of the ground mission to take out the shield generator, "the mission carries a high degree of risk.  Our time window for destroying the generator is quite narrow, and the Navy fleet cannot risk waiting once it arrives.  If the shield is not down within twenty minutes of arrival, the fleet will be ordered to withdraw."

Shocked gasps broke the eerie silence in the auditorium when the reality of how precise the timing had to be sank in.

"The Supreme Chancellor is counting on us to succeed," Targeter said with a knowing glance at Bryon.  "And we will not let her down.  My information and General Skywalker's tactical skill will give us a wide range of contingency plans should we encounter unexpected obstacles during our mission.  Consider who is present in this room, and you will understand just how important Victory Strike is.  Our very best soldiers and pilots, generals and admirals, agents and spies have joined together to carry out a military operation of extraordinary boldness.  The risks may be great, but I cannot imagine a better and more courageous group of comrades for this fight than the ones I see around me now."

A hearty round of cheering and applause greeted those words.  

And Bryon remembered why he'd asked her to address the briefing.  "Thank you, Agent Targeter," he said with deep, booming confidence.  "Our next hyperspace jump will take place shortly.  Once we arrive our insertion freighter will deploy immediately, and my team's mission will begin.  We will succeed – and Argis' capital will be ours."

More cheers and applause started, but Bryon silenced it with his raised hands.

"There will be time to celebrate when the war is won," he said grimly.  "For now, prepare your troops and your ships for the operation ahead, and when the time comes do your duty to the very best of your abilities.  The moment is here to end this war once and for all, and the task has fallen on each of us to do our part."

Bryon gazed around the auditorium one last time.

"Fight bravely, clear skies, and may the Force be with you."

---****

Bryon cinched his utility belt tightly around his waist and reached down to check his armament.  Two blaster pistols.  Four concussion grenades.  Two thermal detonators.  And the heavy blaster rifle he snatched off the table and slung over his shoulder by its strap.  Striding out into the corridor of the freighter, he adjusted the fit of his camouflage fatigues over his light body armor.  It wasn't the full black battle armor he typically wore, but it was better than nothing.  He'd just have to remember to be a little less brazen than usual. 

Soon he arrived in the converted cargo hold to find his team's small military shuttle primed and ready.  Waiting for him at the bottom of the boarding ramp was the rest of the group: Sarré, Han and Leia, Luke and Danaé, Chewbacca and Calrissian, and the droids. 

"The platoon's on board," Han said.  "We're ready when you are."

"Excellent."  Bryon turned to face the Navy lieutenant standing patiently to the side.  "The preparations are complete.  What's our status?"

"We're in high orbit over the sixth planet in the system," the lieutenant replied.  "We proceed on your order."

"No time to waste," Bryon said.  "Send the notification transmission to Admiral Ackbar."

"Of course, General," the lieutenant said, saluting crisply as he turned to go.  "Right away."

Bryon saluted in return, then waved his hand to the others.  "Let's go," he said.  "Let's do this."

While the others filed up the ramp Sarré stayed behind and took his hand.  She looked up at him and smiled warmly.  Even without a single word her complete confidence in him was infectious.

Bryon smiled back and squeezed her hand, and they walked together up the ramp. 

---

Luke glanced over at his twin, who was strapped in next to him in one of the shuttle's passenger compartments.  "You're sure you wouldn't rather be up in the cockpit?"

"I'm sure," Leia said, reaching out to take his hand.  "How are you doing?"

"Fine."

She shot him a stern glare.  "Luke…"

"You're right."  He sighed.  "I'm better now, though.  Really.  I promise."

"Where do you think she went?"

"I don't know."

Leia squeezed his hand.  "I'm sure she's safe."

He nodded.  "I'd sense it in the Force if she were in danger."

"Or worse."

"Or worse."

"Mara wouldn't just walk away from her duties, Luke," Leia said.  "That's not like her at all.  There must be something else going on.  There has to be."

"I think so too," he said.  "I just wish she'd told me what it was."

"Would you have let her go without you?"

"I don't know.  Why?"

"It could be that whatever it is she feels she still has to face, she has to face alone."

Luke closed his eyes for a long moment.  "I don't think so," he said when he opened them again.  "She's passed her Trials.  She's proven herself.  She doesn't have to face anything alone."

Leia squeezed his hand again.  "Have you ever told her that?  _Really_ told her that?"

He paused.  "I… I suppose not."

"Maybe it's time you did."

Lost in his own thoughts, he didn't say anything.

Leia released his hand and wrapped her arm around him.  "It's never too late to make things right."

"I know."  Despite himself, Luke shivered.  "I have a very bad feeling about this."

---

Bryon leaned forward, braced his elbows on his knees, and propped his chin on his hands.  "I wish you'd stop worrying," he said to his sister across the small passenger compartment.  "You'll be great."

"I'll do my best," Danaé said.  "Still, I wish we had Mara along too.  I'm not half the warrior she is."

"Maybe not," Bryon conceded.  "But you're a Jedi Knight.  That's never a liability."

Danaé smiled a little.  "I suppose not."

"Don't forget," Sarré put in from Bryon's side, "most of this mission is getting through the forest.  Your talents will be really helpful with that."

Danaé nodded.  "True.  I hadn't thought about it that way."

The white-haired intelligence agent put her hand on Danaé's knee.  "They're right," she said.  "You're a great asset to our team.  No matter what we confront down there, you'll give us an advantage."

"All right, all right," Danaé chuckled.  "You win, Targeter."

Bryon laughed.  "You're good," he told the agent.  "It usually takes us much longer to break her."

She winked.  "And interrogation isn't even my specialty.  Please, Danaé, forget the codename.  We're friends.  You don't have to be so formal."

"I'm sorry, Winter," Danaé said. 

"Just so you know," Bryon interjected, "she's going to call you Targeter anyway.  You saw her call me General a few minutes ago.  She can't help herself." 

Danaé shrugged helplessly and smiled, and Winter nodded knowingly.

"So," Bryon said, changing the subject back, "I take it this kind of mission _is_ your specialty?"

"Yes," Winter replied.  "I only need one pass through a structure to reproduce an exact floor plan.   It makes target selection that much easier for the attack squads that go in later."

Sarré looked at Bryon and furrowed her brow.  "I thought you said you'd worked with Winter before?"

He laughed, and Winter laughed too.  "Not exactly," he explained.  "You remember the mission at Barrak Station?  That was the only time Cerule's team ever outdid mine." 

Sarré's lavender eyes lit up as she glanced between the two of them.  "And Winter was with Cerule?"

He grinned.  "Why do you think I've got her on my side this time?"

Now all four of them burst out laughing. 

"You're exaggerating," Winter said when they quieted.  "That was mostly Cerule."

"No, she's not _that_ good," he shot back.  "Not compared to me.  You're pretty much the only explanation."

Sarré batted him on the back of the head.  "Shut up, Bryon."

---

In the rear cargo hold of the shuttle Artoo extended his third leg and wheeled over to where Threepio was strapped into a makeshift jumpseat.  When he arrived he blooped and beeped a question.

"I'm not certain," the protocol droid replied.  "Master Luke apparently didn't see fit to inform me of the details of this portion of the mission."

Artoo blatted.  "Well, no.  It didn't occur to me to ask."

The astromech trilled and razzed.  "There's no reason to be rude," the protocol droid snapped.  "Next time you can just ask Master Luke yourself if you're so desperate to know."

Artoo whistled in annoyance.  "Really, Artoo," said Threepio firmly, "I'm quite sure there will be plenty of excitement for you once we've landed."

Artoo beeped another question.  "Oh, yes.  I perused the dossier on this planet yesterday.  There are any number of predators that could give us trouble in the forest."

The astromech trilled and beeped excitedly.  "Not only that," the golden droid said, "but we'll almost certainly encounter enemy patrols before we reach the shield generator."

Artoo honked.  "The predators?  Oh my.  Well, the most dangerous is…"

---

Han tapped his fingers impatiently on the cockpit console of the shuttle.  "What's taking them so long?"

"Han, old buddy, you really need to calm down," Lando said from behind him.  "I'm sure everything's fine."

From the co-pilot's seat Chewie rumbled his agreement.  "Yeah, well," Han muttered, "they're not giving me a lot of confidence down here."

"The codes will work," Lando said.  "Trust me."

Han looked back and scowled.  "And if they don't?"

Lando shrugged.  "At least we won't realize we're about to be blown to bits."

"Wonderful," Han said.  "Very reassuring."

A moment later the communications line crackled open.  "Captain Solo, you're all clear."

Han nodded to no one in particular.  "We're ready when you are."

"Roger," the voice of the cargo freighter's second-in-command said.  "We'll be at the release point in five minutes."

"Sounds good," Han said.  "We're activating the jammers now."

"Copy, Solo," the officer replied calmly.  "May the Force be with you."

"Yeah, thanks," Han said as the feed clicked off.  "How're we doing, Lando?"

"Jammers activated," his friend replied.  "Everything's all set."

Right on schedule the wide doors to the cargo hold suddenly swung open.  Chewie hit the repulsors to propel them forward, and in an instant they were away from the freighter and into the open sky. 

Han waited a few more seconds, then slammed the atmospheric drives to maximum.  The shuttle burst forward with a jolt, and he swung the nose of the craft around to face their destination in the forest beneath them. 

"Jammers fully functional," Lando reported quickly. 

"No reason to take any chances," Han said, pushing the shuttle into a series of diagonal dives as they plummeted toward the treetops below. 

Chewie growled a warning.  "I know, I know," Han snapped.  "Don't worry about it."

He pulled them out of the descent just above the forest canopy and kept them at top speed as the blur of green flashed by. 

Chewie wroofed another warning.  "I agree," Lando said.  "Slow it down a bit."

"I don't think so," Han said.  "We're not gonna sneak up on them flying casually."

Chewie howled mournfully, and Lando sighed in frustration.  "You won't listen to reason, will you?"

Han glanced back and smirked.  "Do I ever?"

---

Darth Vengous felt the tremor in the Force long before the long-range scanners of the _Ebony Fang_ detected the approach of the starship she had been expecting.  Near the edge of the Coruscant system, guarding the most direct hyperspace corridor in the direction of Naboo, she had lain in wait for her nemesis.  Now the time had come. 

The Sith Master immediately adjusted the sensors to focus exclusively on the incoming vessel.  Yet another small part of her trap was about to be sprung, and she would have only one chance to set this bait. 

As the computers analyzed the data to confirm the craft's identity, she found herself surprised at this turn of events.  Surely the Chosen One had learned of her threat to Naboo days ago – the Jedi could not possibly have missed the clues she'd confirmed had been left for them.  She had expected him to react immediately or not at all.  To act after so long a delay, then, was a surprise. 

Vengous smiled.  This was getting more interesting all the time. 

The console beeped and she glanced quickly at the scanners.  The _Lady Vader_ was indeed on its way.  And not even flying under one of the Chosen One's many false registrations.  Apparently he wasn't expecting company. 

Yes, this was definitely getting more interesting. 

Vengous set an intercept course and slammed the sublight drives to maximum velocity.  The _Ebony Fang_ shuddered, sprang forward, and surged in the direction of her prey.  Quickly she checked that all the weapons were primed and the shields fully charged.  Her ship was ready – and the distance to her enemy already was almost closed.  She adjusted her trajectory, readied her fingers on the triggers, and waited.

---

Mara tensed her grip on the two-handed control stick of the _Lady Vader_.  "How much longer until we can jump to hyperspace, Jaytoo?"

From his station in the back of the cockpit, the black-and-gold astromech razzed a quick reply. 

"No," she said.  "I'd rather not fly into a star.  I'll wait."

She caught herself tapping her feet as she scanned the readouts on the main console in front of her.  All systems were functioning at top efficiency.  The hyperdrive was ready to activate.  Everything was fine. 

Then why, she wondered, was she clenching her jaw and scowling?

Suddenly Jaytoo honked a warning and a burst of information scrolled by on the heads-up translator projected onto the viewport. 

"Charging us?  Where?"  Mara immediately looked to the sensors, and Jaytoo already had the data marked.  It took her only a second to see that he was right. 

"Shields to maximum," she ordered.  "Arm the weapons."

Jaytoo trilled.  "I know it'll draw power from the hyperdrive," she snapped.  "I don't think we have a choice."

The droid whistled his agreement as Mara reached out into the Force to the pair of co-pilot's stations behind her.  In her mind's eye she adjusted the settings on the port console to increase the power to the aft shields while she readied the rear-aiming and lateral-firing laser cannons on the starboard console. 

As if from nowhere their pursuer was right on their tail.  Mara swung the _Lady Vader_ into a steep climb, but her opponent tracked the evasive action easily.  The proximity alarms wailed, and she plunged the starship into rolling twist.  Again it didn't help. 

"Blast!" she hissed.  "Whoever this is, they're good."

Jaytoo squealed – and Mara flinched when the first cannon blasts collided with their shields.

---****

Leia gazed around the small clearing in the forest.  Their military shuttle rested on its landing gear at the far end, shielded from aerial observation by the dense canopy of leaves that had reformed above almost as soon as they had passed through.  All around them the towering trees soared high into the air; some of the trunks were nearly as wide as the shuttle.  The air was heavy and humid, with no breeze and a vibrant scent of the flora and fauna of the planet.  It reminded her of some of the ancient forests back home on Naboo, except on a far grander scale. 

To her left Bryon was giving a last set of instructions to the four squads of camouflaged Special Forces troopers they had brought along.  Sarré was standing beside him, just listening.  To Leia's right Danaé and Luke stood a few meters apart, each seemingly lost in meditation as they faced into the forest.  And back at the shuttle the final members of the team appeared to be closing up the ship.  Leia decided to join them.

"Hello, Winter," she said when she got there.  "It's been too long."

"Yes it has, Leia," the white-haired intelligence agent replied with a smile.  "It's good to see you again."

Lando stepped over to them.  "You two know each other?"

"From Alderaan," Winter said.  "My family is very close with the Organas.  Jarren was one of my best friends."

Lando nodded solemnly, then squinted at them for a moment.  "You know, without ever seeing you side by side before I never realized how much you look alike.  If Winter dyed her hair you could prank a guy real good someday by switching places."

Leia winked.  "Oh, we know.  We're just waiting for the perfect victim."

"Sounds like a plan," Lando said.  "But don't you dare do it without me if it's Han."

"What about me?" asked Han as he walked up to them.  Behind him Chewie gave Leia a knowing wink.

"We were just wondering what was taking you so long," Leia said easily while giving Lando a nod. 

"Hey, just making sure everything's all set," Han said defensively.  "We're done now.  Right, Chewie?"

The Wookiee wroofed approvingly, and Leia was pretty sure he was trying his best not to laugh. 

"It looks like the other squads are heading out," Winter said.  "We'll be next."

Their group began to walk toward Bryon and the remaining squad of a dozen soldiers.  Leia sidled up to Han and wrapped her arm around his waist.  "Han, do you remember once, when I told you that you didn't have to fly like a madman to impress me?"

"Of course, Princess," he said.  "Sure, I remember."

"That's still true."

"What?  You didn't like the way I flew the shuttle?"

"I didn't say that," she replied.  "But next time try to remember that not every ship handles like the _Falcon_."

Han flashed her a lopsided grin.  "I'm just doing my job, Your Highness."

Leia laughed.  "And I'm just doing mine, Captain."

---

Danaé closed her eyes and opened her mind to the living Force, letting the pulsing currents of its energy flow unimpeded through her awareness and her body.  Its intensity was not as great here as on Dagobah, but it was quite strong all the same.  The gigantic trees were beacons of power in the Force, and the vast array of plant and animal life surrounding them filled her perceptions with the wonderful sensations of life.

She could not dwell on the beauty of the forest, though.

In a few minutes she would join her brothers and her sister in a trek through this living maze to reach the planetary shield generator.  They would destroy it, and that would allow the Republic to conquer this world, which in turn would lead to the enemy's surrender and the end of the war.  Many thousands of individuals would die in the battle to come when the invasion began.  But the surrender they achieved would save tens, if not hundreds, of thousands more across the galaxy.

To saves lives the Republic would have to take lives. 

And Danaé had to accept that her duty was to do the same.  For the Republic to prevail, she had to prevail.  And that would require her to kill – she had no doubt of that whatsoever.  She would do her very best to spare as many lives as possible, of course.  But she would not shirk her duty. 

To save lives she would have to take lives.

That prospect brought a shiver of regret to her meditations.  Danaé had not killed another sentient being in a year.  She hadn't killed all that many in her whole life for that matter, but she hadn't killed anyone in a year.  Since the mission at Gimna 3. 

Since she had killed Oga.

Danaé knew she wasn't supposed to regret killing him.  He had fallen to the dark side.  He had joined the Sith.  He had tried to kill her – and would have, had she not killed him first.  He had given her no choice, and she had done her duty.  How could she regret that?

But she did regret killing Oga.  She didn't know what had happened to him in the year he had been gone, but she couldn't imagine he willingly had given his soul to the dark side.  All Jedi were tempted at some point or another; her family was proof enough of that.  But Oga had been a good man – the best kind of man there was.  He would not have chosen the evil path.  And yet Oga had become a Sith anyway.  It should have been impossible, but it had happened.

She couldn't help but wonder if she could have saved him from the darkness, if she had only had more time.

Danaé opened her eyes and looked off into the distant mists of the thick Vyhrragian forest.  Soon she would have to fight.  Soon she would have to kill.  Soon she would confront within herself the worst impulses of her power in the Force and her Skywalker heritage.  Soon she would look darkness in the eyes and choose.

She would choose the light.

Danaé took a slow, deep breath and turned around to join the others.  She was a Jedi Knight with a duty to perform.  Part of that duty would require killing at least some of those who opposed her – and killing them without anger or hate.  She had done that before.  She would do it again, now and in the future.

It was time to stop thinking.

It was time to act.

---

Sarré finished tying back her hair in the traditional Naboo combat braids, then glanced over at Luke.  He still was standing alone at the edge of the clearing, fidgeting.  She couldn't tell whether he was bothered by having to wear the brown-and-green camouflage tunic over his indigo Jedi robes, or whether it was something else.  With a sigh she headed toward him.

When she arrived at his side he didn't react, so Sarré put her hand on his arm.  "What's wrong?  It looks like something's troubling you."

He nodded distractedly.  "More than one thing, actually."

"Oh," she said, frowning.  "Is there any way I can help?"

"Not really.  Thanks, though."

"Sure."

Luke took a slow, deep breath.  "Aren't you afraid that you'll orphan your son?  How could Bryon let you come along on this mission, with all the dangers it poses?"

Sarré laughed.  "Bryon may be a general and I may be a handmaiden, but I think you have a distorted view of the chain of command in my marriage."

For a brief moment Luke grinned – but then he became entirely somber again.  "I was serious."

"I know you were," she said, crossing her arms over her chest and gazing off into the forest.  "I'm not willing to live my life in fear, Luke.  My parents didn't.  Your parents didn't, even when there were threats to them, to all of you, for many years.  I can't spend my whole life afraid that someone close to me will die."

"Maybe not," he conceded.  "But this mission is different.  You _know_ how great the risks are."

Sarré shrugged.  "I do.  I also know that everything hinges on this battle – on this mission.  Bryon's place is here.  And my place is with him.  I may not be a Jedi, but I can feel it.  If it's the will of the Force that we both lose our lives in service of a greater good, to give Nyklas a better future, then so be it."

For a long moment Luke continued gazing off into the forest too before he turned to face her.  "You're braver than I am," he finally said quietly.  "I wish I had your courage."

"But you do," she insisted, gazing intensely into his eyes.  "You're a Jedi.  You're a Skywalker.  That's all you need to know.  You have to push away your fear, Luke.  You have to find a way.  Otherwise the Sith have already won."

He nodded slowly, lost in his own thoughts again.

Suddenly Bryon's voice intruded into their quiet moment.  "There you are," her husband's booming voice said.  "The other three squads have deployed.  It's time to move out.  Are you ready?"

"I'm ready," Sarré said.

At her side Luke smiled to her for just a moment before looking at his brother.  "I'm ready too."

"Good," Bryon said.  He reached out to take Sarré's hand.  "Hope you're prepared for a walk."

"Sure," she said, meeting Luke's gaze again.  "With you here, I'm prepared for anything."

---

In the deserted starship lane in the outer reaches of the Coruscant system the blindingly fast duel between the two unique vessels lit the black starscape with flashes of red and green. 

Approximately thirty-five meters in length, the gray arrowhead-shaped vessel bristled with laser cannons and torpedo ports along the sides of the wedge.  Yet the _Lady Vader_'s main weapons were silent – the craft could not shake its relentless pursuer.

Although the sleek, dagger-shaped black star yacht was nearly fifty meters long, it matched each of its opponent's maneuvers with ease.  The _Ebony Fang_ lacked any visible armament – but iridescent red cannons bolts lanced outward from its smooth hull nonetheless. 

The _Lady Vader_ arced into a tight loop as its shields absorbed the incoming blasts.  From rear-facing cannons concealed in the design, the hunted returned fire on the hunter with brilliant bolts of green. 

The _Ebony Fang_'s shields were more than strong enough too, and the trailing starship mirrored the loop only a split-second behind.  Another burst of red shot outward –

– and flew wide as the smaller craft spiraled away in a rolling dive across the constellations. 

Without hesitation the larger ship followed, plunging after with cannons firing.

---

Mara's black-gloved hands gripped the control stick with bone-crushing strength.  Without question she was a capable pilot, but not a genuine ace like the lover or the Master she had left behind.  And whoever was chasing her was closer in skill to them than her. 

Not good.

"Divert all power from the front cannons," she ordered the astromech at his station behind her in the cockpit. 

The droid blooped a second later, and Mara used the Force to slam the firing control on the starboard co-pilot's console behind her.  The suddenly enhanced rear-aiming laser cannons erupted in a flurry of shots – but her sensors told her that once again her enemy's shields had repelled the attack. 

Jaytoo honked in dismay.  "Well," she said, "it was worth a try."

---

Darth Vengous knew she'd misjudged the situation.  The _Lady Vader_ was not flying and fighting like the personalized starship of the Chosen One.  As much as she hated him, she had to admit her nemesis was one of the greatest starpilots in the galaxy – and a cunning warrior.  So from the first moments of the deadly dance in space one thing had been perfectly clear to her.

The Chosen One was not at the helm of his ship.

It didn't take Vengous long to analyze the situation.  The pilot clearly was a Jedi – the impossibly quick instincts told her that.  The Chosen One's son was nearly as good a pilot as his father; he would've put up better resistance.  The Chosen One's daughter was the prudent one; she would've tried to escape by now, rather than continuing to engage with a clearly superior opponent.  That left only one possibility.

Jade.

In just that moment another barrage of green bolts flew out from the aft of the _Lady Vader_ and splattered away against the _Ebony Fang_'s shields.  A quick check confirmed they remained at over eighty percent strength.

"You think you can hold your own with me?" 

Vengous laughed as she squeezed her triggers.  "So be it, Jedi."

---

The pounding on the _Lady Vader_'s rear shields was getting more intense every second, and no matter how hard Mara tried she couldn't gain even a moment's freedom from the fusillade.  For an instant she diverted her concentration from flying the ship to the port co-pilot's console – just long enough to reduce fore shields to minimum and pour all that power to aft.

Another steep dive did nothing to lose her pursuer. 

"Jaytoo, run the hyperspace jump calculations," she said in a rush. 

The astromech toodled and squawked indignantly.  "You run the calculations," she spat.  "I'll worry about getting us to the jump point."

She fired another round of blasts from the aft cannons, but she knew it was fruitless.  The sensors were clear – the _Lady Vader_'s shields were being worn down at a much faster rate than the enemy's. 

Jaytoo blooped and whistled.  "Okay," Mara said.  "I'll be ready."

---

Although Vengous hadn't scheduled the young woman's death so early in her design, there was no time like the present.  This particular ambush had been for the Chosen One himself.  Without him here, she was wasting her time. 

With a quick flick of a thumb switch on her control stick Vengous readied her proton torpedoes. 

---

Mara pulled with all her strength on the control stick and wrenched the _Lady Vader_ into swift reverse barrel roll that brought her around for a straight charge toward the jump point to hyperspace.  It didn't even matter if she gave away her destination in the Mid Rim in the vicinity of the Naboo sector.  She just had to get out alive.

"How much longer, Jaytoo?"  The droid warbled anxiously in reply. 

"Then we'll _make_ it be soon enough," Mara hissed, switching off all the weapons and pushing the sublight drives beyond maximum speed.

---

The _Ebony Fang_'s console beeped to indicate the torpedoes were ready.  Vengous had to admit that Jade was putting up more of a fight than she'd expected. 

"Too bad, young one," Vengous whispered.  "You would have made an excellent Sith.  But you have left me no choice.  This ends once and for all.  Now."

Vengous squeezed her triggers and watched six shimmering blue orbs launch toward the Chosen One's ship. __

---

Jaytoo honked and trilled his readiness at the very same instant the proximity alarms screamed out the warning of a massive proton torpedo attack. 

"Now," Mara yelled.  "Now!  Now!  Now!"

---

And suddenly, impossibly, the _Lady Vader_ shuddered – and with a blinding flash of light the starship sprang away to hyperspace.

The six torpedoes flew through the empty space where Jade had been, then trailed off into the black landscape of stars until finally detonating uselessly far in the distance.

Darth Vengous ran her black-gloved fingers through her long, straight black hair, leaned back in her pilot's seat, and steepled her fingertips at her chin.  Naboo was Lady Delicti's mission – and when that was over, it would be time for Vengous' own.  She probably ought to depart right away. 

No, she decided.  It could wait a few hours.  She had learned much about her enemies just now, and she had to consider all of that first.


	10. Chapter Eight

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

Mara hunched over the handlebars of the speeder bike as she tore through the dark nighttime streets of Theed at high speed.  She extended her perceptions ahead in the Force to make sure she wouldn't hit anyone – but no one was out at this hour anyway.  Unerringly she followed the path her nightmare had shown her.

The _Lady Vader_ sat in a docking bay of the main hangar at the Royal Palace, where the Amidala family starship always was welcome at a moment's notice.  The night-shift guard on duty had been delighted to have the spell of his boredom broken, and with irritating enthusiasm he'd helped her unload the bike and given her directions to the Cathedral of the Liberation, the first landmark in her disturbing vision from the Force. 

Mara swung wide around a corner and shot down another cobblestone boulevard.  She almost had reached her destination now, and it was time to prepare.

Her hands gripped the controls with such strength she felt tingles running up her arms.  She took a series of deep breaths and compelled her heartbeat to slow.  Dropping the speeder bike to a more reasonable speed, she opened her mind fully to the Force and pushed aside the questions and anxieties boiling in her thoughts.  For the next few minutes she had to concentrate on one thing and one thing only.

Mara flew the bike into a dark alley and parked it along the stone wall.  She hopped to the ground and quickly adjusted her tight black flight suit.  She cinched her belt around waist and shook out her loose red-gold hair.  Then she crossed her arms over her chest, closed her eyes, and plunged her mind into an intense battle meditation.

When she opened her eyes again Mara was immersed in the deadly calm that was Vaapad.  She strode from the alley at a brisk clip to walk the final few blocks to the building she had seen so clearly in the horrifying dream.  Her feet carried her forward without conscious thought and the Force flowed through her body with unparalleled ease.  Never before had she so clearly felt that the Force was guiding her, rather than the other way around.

Soon Mara reached the structure she had never seen before but recognized well.  Skulking in the deep shadows of late night, she made her way to the rear entrance and examined the keypad by the door.  It didn't take her long to realize the best course of action – so she plugged her small handheld datapad into the keypad and linked it to her comlink, then flicked open the feed.

"Jaytoo?  Are you there?"  Immediately she was greeted with a happy burst of beeps and bloops.

"Good," she said.  "Slice me in."

Over the comlink she could hear the faint sounds of the astromech twittering and whistling to himself as he worked.  Not more than half a minute later her datapad beeped. 

"Thanks, Jaytoo," she said as the door slid upward.  "Stay ready in case I need you."

Mara waited for the droid's confirmation, then stashed her datapad and comlink on her utility belt and walked inside.  She found her way through the hallways and stairs without difficulty – her nightmare had been stunningly accurate.  There didn't seem to be any sensors or traps set, so within a matter of minutes she'd reached the thick wooden door from her vision. 

She took one final deep breath and pulled even more of the Force's invigorating energy into her body.  With her mind stilled by the precise concentration of Vaapad, she was more than ready. 

Mara snapped her lightsaber handle from her hip into her palm and ignited the shimmering violet blade.  Effortlessly she kicked down the door with a single smash of her booted foot.  Beyond the falling door was a brightly lit, sterile white room – the deadly laboratory the Force had revealed to her.

Inside the room a tall woman stood at a counter.  She was making entries on a datapad while examining a set of biological cultures in distinctive scientific tubes.  Dressed in white technician's garb and with her long brown hair tied back in a single plait, she was the perfect picture of a dedicated scientist. 

If Mara hadn't been certain who this woman was, she might have thought she was in the wrong place. 

For a long moment the Sith did not react.  Then with completely composed deliberation she set down her datapad and spun to face Mara.  Almost nonchalantly the woman took a long step away from the counter and into the wide space in the middle of the room, where she extended her hand in the air – and a glittering silver lightsaber handle flew from nowhere into her palm.  The scarlet laser sword ignited with a snap-hiss.

Mara grinned triumphantly as she surged forward to attack. 

---

Bryon gathered the group together at the base of the four-meter wide trunk of a towering tree.  "The scouts found something," he told them quickly.  "Give us the report, Sergeant."

A young man dressed in the same camouflage gear as the rest of them saluted crisply.  "Yes, sir, General.  Half a kilometer ahead is a small enemy outpost.  At present there are two groups of six brownshirts each on patrol, as well as an additional twenty brownshirts at the outpost itself.  We're keeping tabs on the patrols."

Bryon looked at Winter.  "Have you been to this outpost?"

"Not this particular one, no," she replied.  "But the Vyhrragians use a standard layout for them."

"Good," Bryon said.  "Sergeant, you and Agent Targeter take the squad and seize the outpost.  Han, you take Leia and Chewie and Luke and get the first patrol.  I'll take Sarré and Lando and Danaé after the second patrol."

He glanced quickly around the group to see them nodding in agreement. 

"Great," Han said.  "Let's go, then."

"Master Bryon," interjected Threepio as the others headed away to their respective tasks, "what do you wish for Artoo and me to do?"

"Go with Winter," he said to the distressed protocol droid.  "Just stay out of the way while they seize the outpost.  We'll meet up with you again there."

Artoo toodled in dismay.  "Not this time," Bryon said.  "We'll need to move fast to get these patrols.  You'll slow us down too much."

"I think Master Bryon is correct, Artoo," said Threepio, greatly relieved.  "We're not built for combat."

Artoo whistled in disappointment.  "Don't worry," Bryon said, patting the astromech on his dome.  "There'll be plenty of excitement for you later.  I promise."

Artoo beeped and blooped a vow to hold Bryon to his word, and Bryon couldn't help but chuckle as the two droids hurried off to catch up to Winter and the sergeant.  Then Bryon turned to Danaé at his side, and reached out and briefly put a hand on her arm.  "You're all right with this?"

She nodded.  "This isn't the kind of situation where we can just knock them out – or take prisoners."

"Yes.  I'm sorry."

"I'll do what's necessary," Danaé said.  "I'll do my duty." 

"I know you will," Bryon said, giving her a little smile before turning to Lando and Sarré.  "Time to move out."

---

Leia crouched next to Han behind the meter-thick trunk of a fallen tree.  Nearly ten meters away was the patrol of six brownshirts.  The enemy soldiers had parked their speeder bikes and were searching the forest floor for something.  Faintly she could hear them calling out to one another as they carried out their task. 

"So," Leia said, "what's the plan?"

"If we can sneak up on them," Han said in a hushed voice, "we can take them out pretty easily."

"In close quarters we'd have a big advantage," Luke added.

"I guess so," Leia said.  "But it only takes one to sound the alarm."

Han smirked at her.  "Then we'll do it real quiet-like."

Chewie rumbled a suggestion.  "Actually," Han said, "that _is_ a better idea."

"I agree," Luke said.  "I'll take the speeder bikes.  Chewie, you take the other side."

The Wookiee nodded definitively.  "Okay," Han said.  "Let's do this."

Leia drew her blaster pistol from its holster and held it ready in her hands.  Luke headed off in one direction, using the Force to move in complete silence across the twig-strewn ground.  Chewie slunk over to the next tree and extended his frighteningly large climbing claws – and in a blur shot up the side of the massive trunk and into the canopy above.

Together Leia and Han peered over the top of the fallen tree trunk.  The six brownshirts continued their search.  These troopers wore the standard tan body armor over green fatigues, but their special aerodynamic helmets made perfect sense for speeder bike pilots.  Two of the brownshirts had their blaster rifles slung over their shoulders, but the other four had theirs ready in their hands.

"Do you think they're expecting to be attacked?" she asked in a whisper. 

"Sure looks like they think it's possible, anyway," Han replied equally softly.  "I wonder from what?"

"Maybe the local animals?"

"Maybe."

Leia frowned.  "If they knew we were here they'd come after us, right?"

"Look, Your Highness," Han chuckled, "quit your worrying.  We'll be fine.  Shoot the armed ones first."

"Right," Leia said.  "It'll take the others time to draw their rifles."

"See?"  Han flashed her a lopsided grin.  "Told you we'll be fine."

Leia grinned back and waited.  After a minute she readied her blaster into firing position and slid her finger snugly against the trigger.

Suddenly from high above a loud Wookiee roar pierced their ears. 

The brownshirts reacted instantly – by scattering.  Two ran toward the hovering speeder bikes while the other four ran off in opposite directions into the woods.  Chewie continued to roar as he charged down the trunk of a tree on the far side of the enemy soldiers.

Leia fired a few shots and saw Han gun down one of the troopers, but quickly she realized that the scrambled way the brownshirts were running would made it impossible to take them all out from here before at least a couple of them got away into the forest.  Simultaneously she and Han sprang up and over the fallen tree trunk and charged toward the fleeing soldiers. 

"I didn't expect them to do that," she said as they ran ahead at top speed.

"Yeah, no kidding," Han muttered, firing a few more shots at the brownshirts. 

"What now?"

"You get that guy," he replied, pointing toward one of the enemy troopers.  "I'll get that other guy and Chewie'll know to get the last one." 

"Right," Leia said, and rushed after her prey.

---

Luke waited until the first brownshirt vaulted atop the speeder bike and fired up its engine before he stepped out from around the tree trunk to face the enemy group.  The trooper didn't see him, apparently, because the speeder bike lurched forward and zoomed almost straight toward him.

The instant after the speeder bike zipped past with a heavy whoosh of air Luke ignited his turquoise lightsaber and threw it outward in a wide arc.  The rotating energy blade spun away behind a tree – and emerged again to slice off the front steering vanes of the retreating speeder bike in a single swift cleave.

The laser sword's handle slapped into his palm again just as the uncontrollable speeder bike collided with a tree in a blazing fireball. 

Luke turned back to see the second brownshirt that had come his way running off into the forest on foot.

"Nice try," he growled to himself as he hurried after the soldier.

---

Han's feet pounded against the forest floor as he surged after the fleeing brownshirt.  He fired several more shots at the enemy but couldn't hit him.

Still running, the soldier turned half around and squeezed off a pair of shots at Han. 

He spun sideways and the blaster bolts whizzed by him.  Han sped up his pace just a bit, trying to close the distance of the pursuit as much as he could.

The brownshirt was quick, though.  Really quick. 

Han fired another shot, but it barely missed too.

After taking another shot at Han the trooper ran behind a tree. 

Han rounded the tree to discover that he had a clear firing path toward the brownshirt's retreating back.

It was time to take a calculated risk. 

Han stopped in his tracks, set his feet, and snapped his blaster pistol up to a two-handed firing position with both arms extended fully in front of him.  He sighted down the barrel and squeezed the trigger. 

His blaster bolts slammed the enemy soldier squarely in the back and flung him violently to the ground.

Han spun his pistol in a circle around his trigger finger, then slapped it back in its holster. 

He grinned.  "And they say us Navy guys can't shoot."

---

Luke powered his feet with a burst of the Force and gained ground on the brownshirt.  Swinging at his side, his lightsaber thrummed in the air.

The brownshirt fired a few shots recklessly over his shoulder as he fled, but Luke swatted the blaster bolts away easily.  The trooper tried a second time, and again Luke flicked the shots away.

It was possible the enemy soldier might have comlink, though, and Luke wasn't certain whether Winter's attack on the outpost had begun yet.  So he didn't want to take any chances.

Luke scanned the forest floor ahead and saw a length of tree root poking out above the ground.  He waited until the brownshirt was just about there, then used the Force to yank the root upward. 

The brownshirt stumbled on the makeshift tripwire and fell flat on his face. 

The trooper tried to stand again, but even before Luke could reach the prone form a shot rang out and the brownshirt fell dead to the ground. 

Luke looked over to see Chewie running up to him.  The Wookiee wroofed a greeting.

"Nice shot," Luke said. 

Chewie wrawled an acknowledgement.  "All right," Luke said.  "Let's go make sure Han and Leia got theirs taken care of too."

---

Leia ran as fast as she could toward the fleeing brownshirt, and even managed to get a bit closer to him.  She raised her blaster pistol and fired two shots, but they missed.

They traded shots a few times as they ran, but she wasn't very good at shooting on the run and the trooper apparently wasn't very good at shooting backwards.  It was a crazy stalemate in the midst of a frantic chase through the maze of tree trunks and underbrush.

Then Leia had an idea.  Instead of shooting at the brownshirt's back she started shooting at ground a meter or so in front of him. 

The abrupt change in strategy startled the soldier – and for a split-second his stride faltered.

That momentary pause was all it took for Leia to square her aim and pull the trigger.  Three shots struck the brownshirt in the back and drove him to the ground. 

Leia bounded forward and stood over the fallen enemy.  He was dead all right.  She took a deep breath and turned around to head back toward the others.

"Drop the weapon," a grim male voice said suddenly.  "Hands in the air."

Leia hesitated. 

"Now!"

She obeyed, letting the pistol thump to the ground and placing her hands on the back of her head.  "Don't shoot," she said.  "I surrender."

"Wise move, missy," the voice replied with a chuckle.  "Unless you feel like dying, stay just the way you are until we've got the stuncuffs on."

---****

"We'll have to change strategies if they manage to sound the alarm," Bryon told Winter.  "Can you monitor all their frequencies from in there?"

She nodded once, decisively.  "It won't be a problem."

"Good.  Keep me informed."  After the intelligence agent saluted and headed back inside the small building at the center of the captured enemy outpost, Bryon turned around and saw the other group emerging into the clearing.

Except they were missing a person.

He strode quickly up to them.  "Where's Leia?"

Luke glared at Han.  "She was with you."

"Yeah, and I thought you Jedi could use those mystical powers of yours to keep track of people," Han shot back. 

"Hey," Luke growled, "I'm not the one who –"

"Stop, both of you," Bryon snapped.  "Tell me what happened."

"I was – He was – Leia – brownshirts – had to catch – ran after – can't trust –"

"All right, cut it out," Bryon barked, ending the incomprehensible mutual tirade by the two men.  He crossed his arms over his chest and sighed.  "Chewie, tell me what _really_ happened."

The Wookiee wroofed and wrawled an explanation.

Bryon broadened his shoulders just a bit and glared down at Han and Luke.  "Is that accurate?"

Obediently both men nodded.

Then Sarré's voice came from behind him.  "Hey, where's Leia?"

His hand shot up a warning finger at the two men, who wisely remained silent.  "In a minute," he said to her when she reached his side.

She looked up at him quizzically.  "What's going on?"

Without responding Bryon waved over Lando and Danaé, who had been drawn by the sounds of the shouting match.  "Keep these two separated for a while," he told the pair.  "I have enough to think about without dealing with dissension in the ranks."

"Sure thing," Lando said.  He grabbed Han roughly by one arm while Chewie took the other, and together they unceremoniously hauled the protesting Solo away.

Danaé silently offered her hand to Luke, who took it and allowed her to lead him back toward the forest. 

Frowning, Sarré looked up at Bryon.  "Let me guess.  Those two idiots lost Leia?"

---

Danaé drew Luke out of view of the outpost behind a massive tree.  She released his hand and leaned back against the trunk.  She waited for him to lean next to her, then sighed.  "You know as well as I do that Leia's not hurt," she said.  "We both would have felt it."

"She's not hurt _yet_," Luke said.

Danaé ignored the pessimism.  "We'll find her."

"Yeah."

"She can't be far."

"Why not?"  Her brother called a small rock into his hand with the Force, then threw it off into the forest in frustration.  "If there were more brownshirts out there than we realized, they could have her on a speeder bike and be long gone by now."

"Or maybe she's been kidnapped by a band of marauding Ewoks."

Luke scowled.  "This isn't funny."

"No," Danaé conceded.  "But being angry and afraid isn't helping anything."

He was about to respond when they heard the sharp sound of a series of blaster shots ripping into a tree. 

She put her hand on his arm to keep him in place.  "It's just Bryon," she said.  "Sarré's there.  Be glad it was a tree instead of _you_."

The dangerous emotions peeling off Luke in the Force faded a bit when he chuckled.  "You're right.  I'm sorry."

"Just be careful about your feelings."

"I know."

Danaé wrapped an arm around her brother's shoulders.  "We'll find Leia.  Soon.  I promise."

Luke sighed.  "I believe you."

She pulled him closer.  "It's okay to be afraid.  It's okay to be angry.  You're only human."

"And I'm a Jedi Knight," he said quietly.  "I know the difference between feeling and acting."

"Then you'll be fine."

"Right."

Danaé smirked, and skipped her hand through the air.  "You _will_ be fine."

Luke playfully slapped the back of her hand with his fingers.  "I'll be fine."

She skipped her hand again.  "You _will_ apologize to Han."

He burst out laughing.  "Nice try.  I'm not _that_ weak-minded."

---

"That's right," Bryon said.  "Those two idiots lost Leia."

Sarré shook her head.  "Do I even want to know how?"

"Because they're _idiots_," he muttered, clenching his fists and trying to quell his slowly building rage.  "Idiots, idiots, idiots."

"How much time do we have to spare?"

"Very little."

"So what can we do?"

"I don't know," he admitted.  They didn't have time for this.  He couldn't deal with this.  How could he choose between winning the war and leaving his sister behind?

Sarré smiled confidently.  "I'm sure you'll think of something."

"I shouldn't have to!"  Bryon snatched a blaster pistol from its holster and took one-handed aim at a massive trunk a few meters away.  He squeezed the trigger three times, blowing shards of bark in all directions as the laser bolts smashed into the defenseless tree. 

"Bryon."

He kept firing. 

"Bryon, stop."

He obeyed.  He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths.  After a long moment he slid the pistol back in the holster and reached out for his wife's hand.  She took it, and he opened his eyes again and looked down at her.

"I'm sorry," he said.

She smiled a little.  "Better the tree than your brother."

"True."

"Did that help?  Are you less angry now?"

Bryon sighed.  "Yes.  I am."

"Good," Sarré said.  "We need you calm if we're going to fix this and then finish the mission."

"You're right."  He pulled her into an embrace.  She squeezed him tightly, and he ran his hands up and down her back.  "You were right about this too, you know."

"I was?"

"Yes."  He leaned down and kissed her forehead.  "Despite everything, I'm glad you're here."

"Oh."

"With you here," he whispered in her ear, "I really can believe we're going to win."

"Good," she said, pressing her cheek to his.  "Then we will."

---

Darth Delicti gripped her red blade in two hands and parried away Jade's first strikes.  Master Vengous had warned her that the Chosen One might send his former apprentice to confront her – but Jade seemed heedless of the situation in the lab.

"Have you gone mad?" Delicti hissed.  "One wrong move in here and we're both dead."

Jade swung another precise arc straight toward her throat.  "What makes you think," the Jedi snarled, "that I wouldn't accept that outcome?"

Delicti ducked beneath a decapitating blow, then took two long strides backward.  "This is an airborne, infectious toxin, Jade.  You'd kill the whole city and worse, not just us."

"Give me one reason I should believe a single word you say."

"Because you can't afford the risk that I'm telling the truth."

Jade still hadn't moved forward.  "Fine," she said.  "Let's take this outside."

Before Delicti could react Jade had flicked her left palm outward, projecting an immensely powerful invisible wave of energy in the Force.  Delicti staggered backward under its strength, and behind her the doors to the balcony exploded into the night in a shower of wood and glass. 

And just as suddenly Jade was upon her again, the violet laser sword unleashing a blistering barrage of attacks.  It took all of Delicti's skill to defend herself from the onslaught.  Even moving backward at full speed she barely made it to the balcony in time.  Instantly she sprang into a twisting back flip that launched her over the railing.

Delicti used the Force to cushion her fall as her boots slammed into the cobblestone street three stories below.  Already Jade was plummeting to join her, so Delicti had just enough time to set her feet and ready her defenses before the purple lightsaber assaulted her once more.

Sparks flew and ear-piercing screeches shook the air as the energy blades collided ferociously.  Jade's attacks were unrelenting, and terrifying in their intensity and accuracy.  Most disconcerting of all, though, was the grim scowl on her face and the hollowness in her green eyes.

"If you keep this up," Delicti said, trying to break the Jedi's concentration, "you're going to wake the neighbors."

Jade laughed, and pressed her attack even more.  "Probably.  So will your scream when I kill you."

And with that Jade swung another two-handed blow that nearly cleaved Delicti in two.  Only a dive to the ground at the last possible instant saved her life, and she sprang to her feet again to find herself parrying frantically.

For the first time in her life Delicti was afraid she was going to die.  When she met Jade's chilling gaze, she saw that her enemy knew it too. 

And the scowl was gone – replaced by a most unnerving smirk.

---

Mara could sense the fear radiating off the Sith like the rolling waves of scorching heat in the Tatooine desert.  Unhesitatingly she exploited her opponent's weakness and launched into another series of lethal Vaapad techniques.  Only by the slimmest of margins did the Sith avoid them.

Without any conscious thought the Force guided Mara's hands to strike high, then low, then high again.  "You know, this whole thing is rather ironic."

With an elusive parry her enemy counterattacked.  "How so?"

"Well, for one thing," Mara said, snapping the strike aside with pathetic ease, "you're supposed to be the one in black, not me."

The Sith didn't seem to find the idea amusing, and she whipped her scarlet laser sword around just in time to save her right leg.

"And then there's the fact," Mara continued, "that fear is supposed to be your ally, not mine."

The Sith gasped as Mara's violet blade severed her thick braid – and almost her neck.

"Not to mention," Mara concluded, "that you've all been worried about the wrong Jedi."

"What?"

"Isn't it obvious?"  Mara's blade nicked her opponent's left shoulder, and the Sith cried out in pain.  "You see, I've now killed more of your Master's apprentices than my Master has."

Her opponent's eyes widened in shock as Mara's blade struck right-left-right-left and finished with a violent downward arc that sliced off the Sith's right arm at the shoulder.  The woman screamed in agony – until Mara impaled her through the heart with a single swift plunge of the violet laser sword. 

Never breaking her piercing stare into her enemy's eyes, Mara held the blade in place and watched the Sith die.  Triumph pulsed through Mara's veins as the life rapidly drained from the woman's face and her presence in the Force flickered and faded away.  Mara deactivated her weapon and the lifeless corpse collapsed to the cobblestones. 

Clipping the handle to her utility belt, Mara stubbed the body with the toe of her boot.  Naboo was safe.  Padmé and Leia would be so relieved.  Sarré and Bryon too.  And Anakin.  Everyone, really.

"Don't mess with my family," she spat at the dead Sith. 

_Family_.

Unbidden, all her frustration with Luke roared back tenfold.  The blinding sorrow dropped her to her knees, and she clutched her palms to her temples to try to fight off the stinging anger. 

"Blast you, Luke," she sobbed, urgent tears running down her cheeks.  "Why am I not good enough for you?  I did everything you wanted.  I was everything you asked.  What did I do wrong?"

And in that instant the next vision flashed in her mind. 

When it ended Mara almost didn't have the strength to stand.  "Why me?" she demanded of the Force.  "Why is this happening to me?"

She didn't receive an answer. 

Mara compelled herself to rise and reached down to her belt.  Quickly she found the small homing device she wanted and triggered it to broadcast one of the Jedi emergency frequencies.  She threw it up at the Sith's laboratory three stories above and with a quick burst of concentration used the Force to guide it inside.  Then she tugged out her comlink and flicked it on.  "Jaytoo?"

The astromech greeted her with an anxious toodle.  "I'm fine," she lied.  "Listen, I need you to have the ship ready when I get there.  We're leaving right away." 

The droid beeped affirmatively, then blooped another query.  "Vyhrrag," Mara replied, already running back toward her parked speeder bike.  "We're going to Vyhrrag."

---****

Leia sat on the ground with her back against a tree.  Her hands, still bound at the wrists by the stuncuffs, rested in her lap.  There was no point in trying anything right now – a few years ago she'd learned that lesson about stuncuffs the old-fashioned way.

In front of her the small group continued to deliberate.  The three human men who had captured her were there.  She could tell Grim was in charge of that bunch.  Edgy still was twitching, and Silent still hadn't said a word.  They had met up with a red-skinned female Zeltron and a tall male Wookiee, who seemed to be the leader.  The Wookiee was speaking Shyriiwook and the others an unfamiliar dialect that was derived mainly from Huttese. 

Her captors presumably thought she couldn't understand them. 

They were wrong. 

Leia tried to piece together what she had learned so far.  Based on their demeanor they were soldiers.  From their tone and the kinds of plans they were discussing they clearly weren't working for Argis.  Which made them rebels of some kind.  Insurgents, perhaps.  Hassling the brownshirts in the forest apparently was their current mission.

Which would explain what the troopers with the speeder bikes had been doing – trying to track down this band of warriors.

Her captors were debating what to do with her.  Zeltron was sure Leia was a spy.  Grim was skeptical too.  But Wookiee was equally convinced that a spy wouldn't have the authority to kill brownshirts just to set up a trick.  Grim wasn't so sure about that, but Zeltron was coming around.

Leia knew she had to figure out a way to convince them that she wasn't a spy for Argis – but quite the opposite.  In fact, maybe these rebels would know a quicker way to get to the shield generator.  Or maybe they even would be willing to help in the attack.  So she had to think of something. 

In the meantime her captors had begun considering whether to kill her, let her go, or take her back to their base camp.  Grim and Edgy were pushing for kill.  Zeltron objected to that, but wasn't sure about letting Leia go either.  Silent nodded along with Zeltron.  And Wookiee pointed out that it would be easier to interrogate her at the camp than here, and they really shouldn't make this decision without consulting the Colonel.

Still doing her best to follow the conversation, Leia took a deep breath and closed her eyes. 

Why, she wondered, did she have such a knack for getting herself kidnapped?  In less than four years as Senator it had happened four times, counting today.  That had to be some kind of record.

Early in her tenure the spice miners on the moons of Naboo had become disgruntled by the increased docking fees in the ports on the planet.  As part of their protests they had held Leia hostage.  She had talked her way out of that one by promising to get their leaders an audience with the Queen – and she had kept her word.

Less than a year later the radical Anti-Neimoidian League had taken her prisoner in retaliation for her leadership in negotiating a tariff agreement that allowed the Trade Federation to begin shipping to and from Naboo for the first time since the blockade crisis three decades earlier.  A solution as simple as agreeing to a public debate with the group's founder over whether retribution or conciliation was the appropriate method for dealing with their people's erstwhile invaders had won her freedom.

A year and a half ago the Sith had intercepted the _Marigold_ and imprisoned her on Xixus, subjecting her to interrogation and torture to try to draw her father into a trap.  But the Sith had failed, and she had been rescued by a daring mission to the heart of the enemy prison.  Despite the painful memories, it all had been worth it – because those events had brought Han into her life.

And now this.  It was practically funny.  She was on a mission of incredible risk deep behind enemy lines – on the enemy's capital planet, of all places.  And yet it wasn't Argis' soldiers who had captured her.  No, that would make too much sense.  Instead she was the prisoner of a band of… Of what?  She didn't even know.  She had her guess, of course, but it was only a guess.

It was time to start figuring out the truth.

By now Wookiee seemed to have convinced the others that the best option was to bring Leia to the base camp and let the Colonel interrogate her there.  Even Grim and Zeltron were nodding. 

This was her chance.

"You don't have to interrogate me," she said calmly.  "I'll tell you what you want to know."

The five rebels looked at her in complete and utter shock.

Zeltron found her voice first.  "How much did you understand?"

"All of it," Leia replied flatly.  "Well, except a word here or there."

Wookiee wroofed a startled question.

"Yes, you as well," Leia said, trying hard to keep the smirk off her face.  "A good friend of mine taught me."

"How exciting for you," Grim snarled, pointing his blaster rifle right at her.  "Now start talking."

Leia nodded.  "And where would you like me to begin?"

"For starters, a name would be a nice touch," Zeltron said. 

"My name is Leia Skywalker," she replied.  "I'm a diplomat and a member of the Galactic Senate."

Grim chuckled.  "Right.  And I'm King Argis himself."

Wookiee growled a warning at him, then wroofed another question to Leia – if what she said was true, what was she doing here?

Leia knew she had to make a choice, and make it quickly.  She could trust her intuition, which told her that these five rebels were potentially valuable allies, or she could play her cards close to her chest until she was certain they wouldn't betray Bryon's mission to Argis.

Leia told them everything. 

"So," she said when she finished the summary, "do you believe me?"

Wookiee paused, as if still unsure.  Then his comlink chirped, and he plucked it from his bandolier. 

A male voice spoke a phrase that made no sense.  Leia knew they had to be some sort of code words. 

Wookiee wrawled a quick reply, then stashed the comlink again.  He loped over and released the stuncuffs from Leia's wrists, and offered a simple apology. 

"Thank you," she said.  "But what made you trust me?"

Grim laughed.  "Ask your friends when we meet them at base camp."

---

Anakin slid the datapad back across the small round table and smiled.  "It's fine."

Padmé's brown eyes darted nervously.  "You're sure?"

"I'm sure."

"The tone works?"

"It works," he said, reaching out to take her hands in his on the tabletop.  "If anything it's too defensive.  You've explained your reasons already – twice on the Holonet.  You don't need to say anything more."

"I suppose you're right," she sighed.  "I guess until I've convinced myself, I won't accept that others don't need to be persuaded too."

Anakin laughed.  "And you say I'm the wise one."

"Well, you are," Padmé insisted with a little smile.  "You're my wise and powerful Jedi Master." 

"That I am."  He squeezed her hands reassuringly.  "The speech is fine.  The tone works, and the audience will be plenty receptive to it.  If you don't want to trim back the discussion of the suspension decree, you don't have to."

She nodded.  "I probably will, though.  You're right about that.  I know you are."

He released his hold and brushed the fingers of one hand along her cheek as he stood up.  "I'll let you get to it, then.  You'll work faster without the distraction."

Padmé shook her head.  "You're not a distraction."

Anakin grinned wickedly.  "I've been known to be."

"Very true, Master Jedi," she laughed, a soft blush rising in her cheeks.  "Very true.  And about this you really are the wise one.  Give me a little while, and I'll have this stupid thing finished off."

"As you wish, angel."

"Thanks."

He was about to pass through the open doorway into the narrow corridor of the military transport when he felt a familiar warble in her Force presence, and turned back.  "What is it?"

She already was editing the speech on the datapad.  "Nothing, really."

"Oh?"

"Just…"  She looked up and smiled.  "Thank you.  For reading the speech."

He only nodded – they didn't have to say anything more.  Padmé went back to work on her datapad, and for a long moment Anakin stood in the portal, simply watching her.  Then he spun on his heel and headed toward the cockpit to find out how much longer the short flight to Corulag would last.

---

Anakin leaned against a tree along the edge of the broad lawn fronting the elegant, four-story stone building on the campus of an ancient university in Curamelle, the capital city of Corulag.  Standing citizens packed the grassy space to hear the first public address by Supreme Chancellor Amidala since her decree suspending the Senate.  Given that the two dominant institutions in the city were a branch campus of the military's renowned Galactic Academy and a significant research facility for Sienar Fleet Systems, he suspected there was plenty of support among the gathered throng for a more aggressive strategy in the war against Argis' Vyhrragian legions.  And as Padmé began to speak from the second-floor balcony overlooking the crowd, his speculations quickly were proven accurate.

He sensed Jenny Antilles arrive at his side, and after a last lingering look at Padmé he turned away from the scene in front of him.  "Did you need me?"

"No," she replied.  "Just thought I'd say a quick hello while we have a minute."

Anakin nodded.  "How do you think she's holding up?"

"Fairly well most days," Jenny said.  "Better than I expected, really."

"That's good," he said.  After the more than twenty years Jenny had worked for the Skywalkers – as nanny to their children and secretary or Chief of Staff to Padmé – it was second nature to Anakin to find out from her how much the relaxed, calm person Padmé reverted to around him differed from woman his wife was at work.  Jenny always knew what he wanted to know – and Padmé expected her to tell him.  Plus, this way was a lot easier than trying to get Padmé to admit the truth herself.  "If you want me to be around more, I can make the time.  I know she'd never ask, but I don't mind."

"Let's keep it about the same for now," Jenny replied after a moment's thought.  "The more time you're with her, the more time you're not with Nyklas.  Not that she doesn't trust the other security, but you're… well, you're you."

"I know.  I understand."

"And obviously having you bring Nyklas to the office with you isn't an option."

Anakin laughed.  "Not if any work's going to get done."

"Exactly," Jenny laughed too.  "I think we're all right for now.  Really."

"Works for me."  He gazed down closely into his petite friend's eyes, and saw the exhaustion in them.  "And how are you holding up?"

She grinned.  "Fairly well most days.  Better than I expected."

"You should take a day or two off now and then, you know.  Don't run yourself into the ground."

"I won't."

"I'm serious," Anakin said.  "Take a day and sleep."

"There'll be time for sleep after Victory Strike," Jenny shot back.

Anakin sighed.  "I'll make you a deal.  For every day Padmé takes off after this, you take two."

Jenny narrowed her eyes.  "What's the catch?"

"No catch.  You just have to judge how much influence I have over your boss."

She scratched her chin.  "Fine.  It's a deal."

"Excellent."  Anakin glanced back up at the stone building and the balcony from which Padmé was delivering her speech to the cheering crowd.  "She'll be pleased by the enthusiasm."

"Yes," Jenny said.  "Yes, she will."

They stood in silence, side by side, and listened as Padmé's speech continued.  A few minutes later when she nearly was finished, Anakin suddenly felt a surge of unease in his gut.  Immediately he stretched out his perceptions in the Force, searching for signs of trouble and seeking guidance.  He couldn't sense anything specific – only swirls and eddies of elusive disturbances. 

Without hesitation Anakin began to move his way into the crowd, heading straight for the building.  "Come with me," he said quickly.  "Right now."

Jenny obeyed unquestioningly.  "What is it?" she demanded, somehow matching his long strides.  "What's wrong?"

"I'm not sure," he said.  "But I sense something."

"Should I lock her down?"

"No.  Not yet."  Anakin pressed out with his feelings with greater strength, expanding his awareness by leaps and bounds.  He still couldn't pin it down, but his perceptions were becoming clearer and clearer with each meter forward.  As the pair cut their way through the packed mass of humanity he instinctively snapped his lightsaber handle from his belt into his palm.

"Is she in danger?"

Anakin glanced back at Jenny to see that she had drawn her small holdout blaster pistol from wherever she kept it concealed in her impeccably tailored gray suit.  "I think so."

"Maximum alert," Jenny said into the comlink in her other hand.  "Go to lockdown on my word or Master Skywalker's."

Anakin snatched his comlink from his belt too.  Brushing past several more applauding citizens, he raised it to his lips.  "Nature of threat unknown.  Be ready for anything."

A double-click of the comlink confirmed the message, and they continued ahead as fast as they could manage through the dense crowd. 

"I'm going up," Jenny said when they reached the base of the building a few seconds later.  She cast a quick glance at the two Special Forces soldiers guarding the door, who quickly moved to open it for her.  "You coming?"

"If I need to, I'll jump," he said, tipping his head upward to the balcony just over his shoulder. 

"Right," she said, already halfway to the door. 

Anakin squeezed his eyes closed and concentrated as fiercely as he could.  He still couldn't determine the source of the alarming impressions in the Force – but they were growing stronger by the second. 

Then, abruptly, he felt a spike of malicious intention shear through the Force. 

"No," he gasped as his eyes shot open.  The hand with the comlink flew to his mouth of its own accord.  "Energy shield!  Energy shield!  Now!"

Over the jubilant roar of the crowd he couldn't hear whether the security team acknowledged his order to activate the portable energy shield to seal Padmé and the others on the balcony above him in a protective bubble. 

His eyes were on the door.  "Jenny!  Jenny, get back!"

But she was already inside. 

And then the bomb went off – and the stone building exploded in massive blaze of orange and white and red and yellow right in front of him. 


	11. Chapter Nine

CHAPTER NINE 

Anakin reacted on instinct, throwing up his hands and stretching out with the Force to form an invisible barrier around himself.  His fingers held a crushing grip on his comlink and his lightsaber handle as he shoved away the stone and metal and glass and fire and heat that blasted toward him with the devastating power of the explosion that was tearing the building apart. 

He couldn't think – he could only react.

And then, after a few seconds that seemed like an eternity inside the inferno, the fiery wave of the detonation passed – leaving him to contend with the falling debris raining down.  But that was a much simpler task, and without losing his focus on self-preservation Anakin immediately surged his perceptions into the Force again.

A deluge of emotions and sensations assaulted him – fear, pain, death, shock, agony, panic, disbelief. 

But not danger.  Not anymore.

He expanded his awareness, trying his best to assess the situation even as the once proud stone building continued to break apart in front of him.  The building itself had been the target, it seemed, and was blowing up and collapsing inward all at once.  The front rows of the crowd had been ravaged by the blast, but further out the casualties appeared limited.  All around him he found the unmistakable sensations of death.

Padmé was alive – he could feel her presence in his mind like he always did. 

Instantly Anakin reached out for her with his perceptions, needing to know if he had to protect her.  At first he couldn't tell, because all he sensed was her frightened confusion – everything had happened for Padmé without warning, and she still was trying to understand what was going on.  Then he realized her guards had activated the energy shield in time after all, because he could sense several presences nearby as her small portion of the balcony fell away in a single solid piece. 

As the walls and upper floors continued to crumble the segment of balcony smashed into the ground, tossing Padmé violently to the rubble.  Through the Force Anakin felt the spikes of pain from the blow to her body – but he also knew she wasn't hurt badly.  Not compared to so many others around them. 

Dozens of citizens in the crowd were dead.  The guards who hadn't been within the perimeter of the energy shield were dead.  The two Special Forces soldiers who'd been posted at the door a few meters in front of him were dead.  And everyone in the building was dead.

Jenny. 

"No," Anakin shouted, not even aware he was speaking.  The last of the stone and debris fell around him as he clipped his blade and comlink to his belt and started to charge forward.  "No!  No!"

Anakin had gone only a few strides before he stopped cold.  Where the building had been a few seconds ago was a mass of stone and metal and wood ablaze with flames spewing thick black smoke into the bright blue sky.

The sight made his blood run cold.

No longer needing to shield himself from the explosion's aftermath, Anakin reached out into the Force once more to be sure the energy shield had kept Padmé safe from everything but the fall.  It had.  So Anakin had no choice.

He had to get to Jenny.  He had to.

Anakin directed all his focus toward the piles of burning rubble and searched for Jenny.  He probed and scanned as fast as he could, yet relentlessly, seeking any emanations of her familiar, bright presence in the Force. 

He found nothing. 

"No," Anakin demanded in a whisper.  He lunged forward into the rubble, powering his arms with the Force to toss aside the massive stones as if they were pebbles.  He dug frantically through the pile in the spot where there should have been the doorway she'd passed through not even a minute ago.  He had to find her. 

It couldn't be too late.  It just couldn't. 

But it was, and he couldn't keep up his blind denial any longer as soon as he flung away another block of stone and saw the lifeless, gray-clad body of his old friend.  In a flash he burrowed her out, fell to his knees, and pulled her into his arms. 

Anakin cradled Jenny's small form in his lap and wept.  He wrapped the Force around her and sought in vain for any sign of life within.  Hoping against hope he probed with all his strength. 

A few long, horrible seconds later Anakin stopped.  The life was gone from her body, and nothing he could do would bring it back.  Death was one enemy he couldn't defeat, no matter how much he might wish otherwise.

Jenny was dead.

Anakin brushed the hair out of her face and laid her corpse reverently on the ground.  For a moment he closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, centering himself in the Force again and restoring a measure of peace to his troubled emotions.  Then with great effort he rose to his feet and turned around.

Padmé stood half a dozen meters away, her face completely pale and her eyes hollow.  Like his tan Jedi robes, her formal blue gown was stained with soot and charring, probably from some similarly hopeless attempt to save the life of one of her guards.  Motionless, she gaped at the incomprehensible truth on the ground behind him. 

Anakin didn't move either, and waited.  Finally Padmé lifted her gaze to meet his.  The pain in her brown eyes broke his heart, and without conscious thought he rushed frantically to her. 

She crushed her arms around him and burst into tears on his shoulder. 

Tears streamed down his cheeks too, and he held her against him as tightly as he dared.  "I'm sorry," he finally said when their sobbing had slowed to intermittent gasps.  "It's my fault.  It's my fault."

Padmé looked intensely into his eyes and silenced him with a finger on his lips.  "Not now," she said.  "Not now."

Anakin nodded.  He kissed her once on the forehead, then pulled away from her hold and turned around.  After a lingering glance at the rubble of the destroyed building and the thick plumes of black smoke rising into the air, he strode over and bent down to collect Jenny's body into his arms. 

When he reached her side Padmé rested her hand gingerly on Jenny's ashen face.  She held it there for a long while, until she finally looked up into his eyes again.  "Do the children know?"

"I think so."

Padmé nodded.  She glanced back at the surviving members of her security detail, who were waiting a respectful distance away with blaster rifles ready.  "We'll return to Coruscant immediately," she told them.  "Inform my office that Chief of Staff Antilles is dead."

"Of course, Your Excellency," the officer said.  "The transport is already prepared for takeoff."

"Lead the way, Major," Padmé said, her voice unnaturally composed considering the waves of anguish radiating out from her in the Force.

Anakin followed after her, carrying their dead friend with him. 

---

With Luke at her side Danaé walked back across the grounds of the outpost toward what appeared to be a strategy meeting between Bryon, Sarré, and Winter.  In the Force she could sense that her little brother was struggling to keep his anxiety for Leia in check, but outwardly he was as composed as ever.

"The perimeter squads are waiting on our orders," Bryon was saying to the intelligence agent when they arrived.  "Is our squad ready to move out?"

"We are," Winter replied.

"Good.  Then let's stick with what we talked about," Bryon said.  "I'm going after my sister.  If we're not back in two hours, take the squad and go."

Winter ran her fingers through her white hair, and frowned.  "Are you sure about this?"

"I am.  If I didn't trust you to lead this mission, I'd never have brought you along.  You don't need me."

"We're much better off with you, though."

"Perhaps."  Bryon crossed his arms over his chest.  "Do I have to make this an order?"

"No, sir, General Skywalker," Winter said.  "Two hours."

"Two hours."

"I won't let you down."  Winter saluted, and headed off toward Solo, Calrissian, and Chewbacca on the other side of the small enemy compound. 

Danaé barely suppressed her chuckle when Bryon turned to face them.  She knew Skywalker bravado when she saw it.  "So what's your brilliantly conceived plan for finding Leia in two hours?"

Bryon flashed her their father's smirk.  "There isn't one."

Danaé shook her head.  "Somehow I didn't think so."

"But I need Winter and the squad to believe there is," he said.  "Even if they have to leave without us morale will be better if they're expecting us back any second."

Sarré frowned.  "And what if we never show up?"

"We will," Bryon said, and this time it wasn't bravado.  "Somehow we will."

"Between the two of us," Luke said with a tip of his head toward Danaé, "we might be able to narrow down her location."

Danaé nodded.  "There's lots of energy in the living Force in the forest, but we know Leia's Force signature so well we ought to be able to find her."

"Give it a try for a minute now," Bryon said.  "I want to see what Artoo's scanners can find."

"Good idea," she said.  While Bryon and Sarré went to get the droids, Danaé and Luke bowed their heads and closed their eyes.  Together they extended their perceptions in the Force, with Luke focusing on the unique energy pattern of his twin and Danaé concentrating on pushing into the background all the other emanations in the living Force generated by the forest all around them.

It was slow going at first, but they already were making progress when Bryon and Sarré rejoined them.   
Danaé opened her eyes and looked over.  "We can do it," she said.  "I know we can."

"Yes," Luke said with a firm nod.  "Maybe not in two hours, but we can do it."

"Artoo will be able to help some too," Bryon told them.  "He's running a woodlands scanning package that cuts through a lot of the flora."

"So," Sarré said, "we should get started right away, then."

"I'm ready when you are," Luke said.  "No time to –"

His voice cut off at the same time the sharp, nauseating sensation speared Danaé through the Force.

Fear.

Horrible, horrible fear.

Danaé's eyes met Luke's.  "Daddy," she gasped.

He could only nod.  Danaé's legs wavered beneath her. 

"What's going on?" Bryon demanded, reaching out to grip her shoulder to steady to her.  "What's happening?"

Then, just as suddenly, came another burst of feeling.

Heart-rending, desperate anguish. 

Loss. 

Danaé's heart skipped a beat, and she almost couldn't find her voice.  "Is… is… Mom?"

"No," Luke whispered, his voice low and hoarse.  "No.  I feel her too."

"What's going on?" asked Bryon again, increasingly panicked.  "Tell me what's going on!"

Danaé glanced over to see Sarré clutching him around the waist, holding him in place.  Danaé raised her hand to let him know she just needed a bit longer.  She closed her eyes and concentrated on her memories of the two pulses she'd felt moments ago.

Her father's pain was more distinct, but Luke was right – their mother's pain was there too.

Danaé opened her eyes again and looked at Bryon and Sarré.  Her brother's eyes were full of terror, and his wife's face had gone pale.  "Something with Mom and Daddy," she told them.  "Something bad."

Bryon's hand on her shoulder was quaking.  "But you can't tell what it was?"

"It wasn't… a message, exactly," Danaé explained, struggling for words.  "It was just… their pain."

Sarré whimpered.  "It was so bad you felt it from them even though he wasn't reaching out to you on purpose?"

Danaé swallowed hard.  "Something like that.  I can try to –"

"Jenny," said Luke's voice suddenly.

"What?" said all three of them in unison as they looked at him at once.

"Jenny," he repeated, a single tear tracing down his cheek.  "She's dead."

Everyone was silent for a long moment, until Bryon reacted first.  "No!  No!"

Luke could only shake his head.

"Oh, no," Sarré sobbed, still holding tightly to her husband.  "No."

Danaé took a slow, deep breath and trusted her feelings.  "He's right."

They all just stood there.  No one knew what to do, and Danaé couldn't think of anything else to say.  Artoo whistled mournfully, and for once Threepio remained silent. 

Abruptly Bryon wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and stood tall.  "This is it," he growled.  "I've had enough of this blasted war.  Enough of it.  No one else we love dies.  No one!  This is _it_!"

"Bryon, please," Sarré said, her voice shaking.  "Calm down."

"No," he barked, twisting out of her embrace and stomping a few strides away.  "No.  We're going to go get Leia, and then we're going to end this fraggin' war right _now_!"

"Bryon…"

"No," he shouted again, his fists clenched and his face flushed red.  "I'm going to kill every last one of those –"

"No, you're not, Bryon," his wife cut him off.  Sarré's voice was as harsh as Danaé had ever heard it, and the short blonde's hand very deliberately came to rest on her holstered blaster pistol.  With a loud click Sarré set the weapon to stun.  "We're not going _anywhere_ until _you_ calm down."

The sudden change in Bryon nearly broke Danaé's heart.  His fists unclenched and his face drained of color.  His shoulders slumped and tears began to run freely down his cheeks.  He swayed in the air, then leaned on Sarré for support when she rushed into his arms.

"I'm sorry," he gasped through his tears.  "You're right."

Danaé and Luke each put a hand on their brother's shoulder, and for a minute the four of them grieved.

Bryon blew out a deep sigh.  "There's time to mourn later," he said simply.  "We need to get Leia back."

Danaé nodded, and Luke and Sarré did too.

"All right," Bryon said, his confidence slowly returning to his bearing.  "Artoo, get your scanners going.  Threepio, you see if you can learn anything from the birdcalls and animal noises in the forest."

"We'll start looking for Leia again," Luke said when Bryon looked toward Danaé and him. 

Bryon nodded, then turned away from them.  "Hey, Solo," he called out across the outpost.  "Get over here."

Han, Lando, and Chewie jogged over to join them. 

Bryon didn't even wait for them to speak.  "You helped lose her," he said to Han.  "You help find her." 

---****

Luke stood still and extended his awareness in the Force.  They were closing in on Leia's location – he could tell that clearly.  With Danaé's perceptions in the living Force augmenting his focus on his twin's distinctive presence, they already had made great progress in finding her.  He couldn't yet pinpoint exactly where she was, but they were almost there. 

He turned around to face the others.  "Let's keep heading in this direction.  We're getting close."

Artoo whistled and trilled.  "Artoo reports that the indigenous predators continue to keep their distance," Threepio explained.  "They seem to be afraid of us."

"Good," Bryon said.  "Lead the way, Luke.  With any luck we'll be able to catch up to the squad well before they reach the generator."

Han nodded.  "The sooner we get this over with the better."

Covering ground as quickly as they could without compromising their ability to monitor Leia's location, the nine of them moved swiftly through the forest again.  Luke couldn't help but pick up his pace as they drew nearer and nearer to his twin.

"Wait," Danaé said abruptly, raising her hands in a signal to come to a halt.  "I sense something."

Sarré raised her blaster.  "What?  Where?"

"I'm not sure," Danaé replied.  "Something's not right."

Han and Lando had their blasters tracking the forest around them.  "See anything?" Solo asked. 

"No," Calrissian replied.  "Nothing."

Artoo beeped and blooped.  "There do not appear to be any predators in our immediate vicinity," Threepio translated.

Bryon lowered his blaster rifle.  "Luke?  Do you sense anything?"

"Not clearly," he replied distractedly, intent on trying to identify the source of Danaé's unease.  "But something's not right here."

Chewie wroofed a suggestion.  "Sure," Bryon said.  "Check if you can see anything."

The Wookiee took only two long strides toward the nearest massive tree trunk before it happened. 

There was a whoosh and a jolt and suddenly all of them were hanging several meters off the ground, captives in a large net made of heavy rope. 

They were crammed together quite uncomfortably, and Luke's hands were trapped behind him.  One of Threepio's metal legs was wedged painfully against his side, and his face was pressed against Danaé's lower back.  And none of them could move.

Han groaned.  "I suppose this was it, huh?"

"Of course it was, genius," Lando barked.  He paused.  "Right?"

"Right," Danaé said.  "Now, how do we get out?"

Luke considered the situation.  "Sarré, can you reach my lightsaber?"

He felt some wiggling behind him, and heard her grunting in annoyance.  "No," she finally said.  "I can't."

Artoo trilled.  "Master Bryon?" 

Luke barely stifled his laugh at Threepio, who sounded even more dismayed than usual. 

"Yes, Threepio?"  Bryon's voice was muffled.

"Artoo is facing outward.  He proposes that he sever the rope with his utility cutter."

"Go ahead, Artoo," Bryon said immediately.  "Do it."

"I must protest, Master Bryon," exclaimed Threepio.  "It's a very long dro–"

With a snap one of the ropes gave way, destroying the integrity of the net and sending them all falling to the forest floor in tangled mass of limbs and blasters.  They landed with a thump – followed by annoyed moans of pain.

Luke sprang to his feet and assessed the group.  "Is everyone all right?"

The others confirmed they were fine as they stood up too, all the while griping about the fall and rubbing sore spots on their bodies.  Luke could sense in the Force that no one had been seriously injured, so there was nothing to be gained by pressing the issue.

Just as the others reached down for their blasters on the ground a sharp male voice barked out an order. 

"Freeze!  All of you!  Right now!"

Without hesitation Luke raised his hands in the air in surrender, and he sighed with relief when Bryon and Han and the rest did the same. 

From behind trees and underbrush nearly two dozen soldiers stepped out to encircle them.  Much like Luke and his friends the new arrivals wore camouflage fatigues suited for forest combat.  Their captors' blasters were leveled in deadly aim.  Then the one closest to Luke holstered his weapon and strode forward.

The dark-skinned man with lieutenant's bars on his shoulders crossed his arms over his chest.  "Who are you?"

Bryon glared back.  "Who are you?"

The lieutenant whistled in amusement.  "Anyone here smarter than the giant?"

Luke glanced quickly at the others, and saw that no one looked inclined to answer.  Probing the man in the Force revealed nothing about his intentions that Luke couldn't have guessed anyway.

The lieutenant said something over his shoulder to several of his soldiers in a language Luke didn't understand.  A short, dark-skinned man responded first, followed by a tall male Selonian and a tall woman.  The four of them continued their discussion after that.  From the patterns of their speech Luke at least managed to pick out the lieutenant's name – Rostu.

"Well, Goldenrod," Han demanded, "what're they saying?"

"It seems," Threepio replied after a moment, "that they are debating whether to kill us."

"Figures," Han said.

Bryon chuckled.  "What?  You expected them to throw a banquet for us?"

Han smirked.  "Hey, you never know."

Luke shook his head in bemusement.  "What are they saying now, Threepio?"

"There is a division of opinion," the protocol droid said.  "Two of them want to kill us right now.  The other two wish to take us prisoner and let their commander – the Colonel, they call him – decide our fates."

"Quiet!  All of you," Rostu snapped.  "Not another word."

Luke frowned.  They needed a plan, and quickly. 

Very softly Danaé cleared her throat.  Luke glanced over to see her narrow her eyes at him, and in the Force he felt her drawing more and more of its power into her body.  Her bright blue eyes flicked once toward Rostu, then back to Luke again.  He knew that signal well enough, and nodded.

The discussion among Rostu and the three soldiers kept going while Luke waited.  Only a few seconds later, though, Danaé acted.

She jumped straight up high into the air and flicked out her right arm – and in a flash had spun in a full circle.  Even before her feet hit the ground again the invisible wave of power in the Force had cleared their friends' heads and blasted into the soldiers surrounding them, knocking the weapons from their hands and shoving them into the wide tree trunks or flattening them to the ground.  Not one of the soldiers got off a shot.

Only Rostu remained standing, and with a flick of his wrist Luke snatched the man's blaster from its holster and summoned it to him.  The pistol's handle smacked into his hand at the same moment Danaé's boots thumped back to the ground.

"Impressive," Luke said.  "I like that one."

Danaé grinned.  "I have my moments."

The others didn't need orders, and within a second there were five blasters aimed at the dazed group of prone erstwhile captors around them.

"Don't shoot," Danaé said.  "Let them be."

"I know, I know," Han grumbled.  "Like I'm gonna vape a defenseless guy."

Lando winked at him.  "With you, we can never be sure."

Han glowered back, and kept his blaster pistol trained on the slowly recovering soldiers.  "Hands up, folks," he ordered the odd collection of men and women, with a few aliens throw in.  "Nobody needs to get shot."

Luke's attention returned to Rostu when he realized the man was laughing. 

Bryon looked over too.  "What's so funny?"

"I'm sorry," the dark-skinned man said, holding up his hands in surrender.  "It's just so hard to believe."

Luke furrowed his brow.  "What is?"

Rostu looked at him curiously.  "Isn't it obvious?  That you're finally here, of course."

Bryon scowled.  "And who is it, exactly, that you think we are?"

"You're from the Republic," the man replied with conviction.  "Right?"

"Yes," Luke said, following the guidance of the Force.  "We are."

Bryon still was frowning.  "How did you know?"

"It's quite simple, actually," Rostu explained.  "Argis' thugs wouldn't even have hesitated to gun us down as soon as they had the advantage."

Bryon nodded.  "I can't argue with that."

Rostu tipped his head, then gave a knowing glance to Danaé and Luke.  "Plus, Argis doesn't have any Jedi Knights working for him.  And I don't know anyone who could do what you just did without the Force."

"Also true," Bryon said.  "All right.  So we're from the Republic.  Who are you?"

Before Rostu could answer his comlink beeped.  He looked at Bryon.  "May I?"

"Go ahead."  Bryon lowered his blaster, and motioned to the others to allow the rest of the soldiers to gather up their weapons again.

The voice on the comlink said a few quick words, and Rostu responded in kind.  After he stashed the comlink on his belt again he looked up at them.  "We're rebels," he said.  "We've been hiding out here in the forest for over five years, harassing the brownshirts and destroying as many military assets as we can."

"We'd heard reports of insurgency activity," Bryon said.  "We didn't expect to find you here, though."

"It's only in the last few weeks we've gotten this close to –"  Rostu stopped abruptly, and his eyes widened.  "You're invading, aren't you?  The Republic is invading!"

Bryon chuckled.  "Not if we don't get that shield generator destroyed soon."

"Don't worry about that," Rostu said.  "We have speeder bikes at our base camp.  We'll get you there even before the rest of your units."

Bryon gave Rostu a startled look.  "You know about…"

"Of course."  The man grinned.  "We know everything that's happening in the forest.  And I'm sure the Colonel will be sending some of us to join you.  We'll do anything we can to help topple Argis from the throne."

Sarré took a long stride forward.  "We can't leave until we find our friend."

"Oh, that won't be a problem," Rostu said.  "We found her a long time ago.  She'll meet you at our base camp."

Luke blinked.  Sometimes it really was disconcerting how quickly fortune could change.  For once, though, things finally were going in the Skywalkers' favor.

"Great," Han said into the stunned silence.  "That's everything, then.  Let's get moving."

"Right," Bryon said.  "We have a building to blow up."

---

In a small, private passenger chamber on the military transport Padmé sat curled in Anakin's lap, her arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders and her face buried in his neck.  The front of his robes was damp from their tears, mingled together amid the stains of the blast on Corulag.  His hands ran gently up and down her back as he tried to soothe her grief as best he could.

Padmé couldn't believe Jenny was gone.  Even aside from all the years they had worked together, Jenny was one of Padmé's dearest friends in the galaxy.  Life wouldn't ever be the same again – and Padmé couldn't even comprehend how she would go on without her.  She would find a way, of course, because she had to.  And because Jenny would expect her to.  But the very thought was so painful it brought another round of tears. 

"I'm sorry, angel," Anakin said yet again, almost as if it was now the only thing he was capable of saying.

"I'm sorry too," she whispered, squeezing him a little harder. 

Anakin kissed her forehead.  "It's my fault," he said in a hushed voice filled with heartache.  "It's my fault she's dead.  I should have been able to save her."

"That's not true, Ani, and you know it," she said, lifting her face to look into his bloodshot blue eyes.  "You can't hold yourself to that standard.  I won't let you."

"You don't understand.  I sensed the danger.  I sensed it!  And I told her to come with me anyway."

"Do you think she'd have listened to you if you'd ordered her to stay behind?"

"That's not the point," he persisted.  "I brought her along.  I brought her into that."

Padmé ran her fingers through his short gray hair.  "Did you know it was a bomb, Anakin?  Did you sense that?"

"No," he admitted quietly, breaking their gaze to stare at the white wall of the room.

"The Sith were behind this, Anakin.  It wasn't political.  It wasn't about me adjourning the Senate.  The Sith tried to kill me, and their powers of the dark side were clouding your ability to perceive the threat.  Am I wrong?"

"No."

"Then how could you have known?"

"I couldn't have."  He still was staring sightlessly at the wall.  "It just wasn't clear enough.  I'm sorry."

"You can't blame yourself."

He shook his head.  "I should have sensed it.  I should have known.  Somehow I should have known."

"How?"

"I don't know."

Despite herself she sighed in frustration at his stubbornness.  "You did what you thought was best, Anakin.  You're not responsible for this."

Finally he looked back at her again, and nodded.  "I know.  You're right.  I'm sorry."

"Enough apologies," she said, holding his face in her hands.  "We'll make it through this.  Somehow we'll make it through this."

"We will," Anakin said, smiling just a little.  "As long as I have you, I can make it through anything."

Padmé smiled back as best she could.  "And as long as I have you, I can make it through anything too."

---****

Danaé found Luke sitting on a crate at the edge of the insurgent's base camp in the forest.  Her brother was hunched over with his head in his hands, and he was gazing aimlessly at the dirt beneath his boots.  She sat down cross-legged on the ground opposite him. 

"Leia's meeting with the Colonel now," she said quietly, reaching out to take one of his hands.  "It sounds like they're going to send some troops to help us attack the generator."

Luke nodded, but didn't say anything.

"She's all right, you know.  She's fine."

"I know."

Danaé squeezed his hand.  "Were you able to tell her about Jenny?"

"Yes."

"Good."

He kept staring at the dirt.

Danaé frowned.  "What's wrong, Luke?"

"I sensed something a few minutes ago.  In the Force."

"I didn't sense anything," she replied after a moment.  "A disturbance, you mean?"

Luke met her gaze.  "No."

"What, then?"

"Mara," he said, his voice barely a whisper.  "She's here."

"Here?  On Vyhrrag?  Where?"

"I don't know," Luke said quietly.  "It was just for an instant… and then… she blocked me."

"Oh.  I'm sorry."

He nodded.

Danaé squeezed his hand again.  "What are you going to do?"

"There's nothing I can do."  He sighed forlornly.  "I don't know where she is.  I don't know why she's here.  I can't do anything."

She looked closely into his sad blue eyes.  "It's more than that, isn't it?  Tell me."

Luke looked away, unable to hold the gaze.  "I felt… the darkness.  She's giving in to the darkness."

Danaé pulled him into an embrace.  "She won't, Luke.  You have to believe that.  You have to."

"I can save her," he said into her shoulder.  "It's not too late.  I know it's not."

"Then trust in the Force," she said.  "It will show you the way.  It always does."

---

Admiral Mirkalla stood with his hands clasped at the small of his back and looked out the wide viewport on the bridge of his flagship, the Republic Navy destroyer _Invictus_.  In front of him was the amazing panorama of stars that was realspace.  Arrayed around his vessel were a dozen other warships – one strike force of six that soon would unite at Vyhrrag to carry out Victory Strike. 

"Status report, Lieutenant," Mirkalla said over his shoulder. 

"Yes, sir," replied the young woman below him in the crew pit.  "We've received word from the _Orn__ Free Taa_, the _Gannis__ Trellem_, the _Bail Millius_, and the _Corellia's__ Pride_, sir."

"Notify Admiral Ackbar that we're ready for him," Mirkalla said.  "When his strike force arrives at their mark, we jump to hyperspace on his signal.  Don't wait for confirmation from me."

"Understood, sir."

Mirkalla pondered the constellations for a moment until he heard the approaching footsteps behind him.  He turned around and saluted the officers he had summoned to the bridge a few minutes earlier.  "We're one jump away," he told them.  "Next stop, Vyhrrag."

"Rogue Squadron is ready," Captain Wedge Antilles said, smiling. 

"Renegade Squadron is ready as well," Captain Soontir Fel said, as grim as ever.

Mirkalla nodded.  "Order the pilots to their ships.  We deploy the fighters immediately upon arrival."

The two Navy officers saluted, and jogged briskly toward the turbolifts to the lower decks.

Major Will Graff glanced back at Mirkalla from looking out the viewport.  "We're ready too.  Should we order the troops to the landers?"

"Not yet," Mirkalla said.  "Let's make sure the jump goes smoothly first."

"Don't worry about our soldiers, Admiral," said Major Cerule Starblaze with a grin.  "Sitting tight a few extra minutes won't bother them any."

Mirkalla met eyes with Graff and sighed.  "What did we do to deserve this, do you suppose?"

Graff shook his head and chuckled.  "Outnumbered by Corellians three to two?  It must have been something pretty serious, that's for sure."

Starblaze laughed.  "It could be worse."

Mirkalla feigned disbelief.  "How?"

Starblaze winked.  "Skywalker could be here too."

Graff burst out laughing.  "She's got you there."

Mirkalla laughed along with them.  "Yes.  Yes, she does."

---

Mara made her way cautiously across the lush grounds of Argis' royal palace.  The orange and red hues of dusk lit the far horizon in a fiery display, and her black flight suit easily kept her hidden in the long, deep shadows cast on the grass and shrubbery by the towering trees.  Covering distance quickly, shrouded in darkness except for quick bursts through the light, she approached the marble edifice of the south wing.

She stopped and leaned against a tree, and looked up at the palace.  The structure was six stories tall, and the destination revealed in her vision was on the fifth.  Even from here she could see the wide windows of the room and the glow of the bright lights illuminating the space within. 

Mara tugged her comlink from her utility belt and flicked it on.  "Any update, Jaytoo?"

The astromech warbled and toodled.  "Good," she said.  "Just what I wanted to hear."

The droid whistled a query.  "Let's stick with this plan for now," she replied.  "Only contact me if they sound the alarms or raise the alert level."

The droid blooped affirmatively, and Mara flicked off the comlink.  Deep in the dense forest several kilometers beyond the capital city the _Lady Vader_ sat in a small clearing concealed beneath the canopy of leaves.  The incomparable signal-jammers on her former Master's customized starship had prevented any detection of her arrival in the system or her descent through the atmosphere.  The speeder bike didn't have jammers like that, though, so rather than risk it catching the enemy's scanners Mara had spent the afternoon walking here. 

Now, finally, it was time to act.

Mara reached the base of the palace wall without incident.  She pressed her back to the cool stone and considered her surroundings one more time.  She hadn't seen any security cams or foot patrols.  She obviously hadn't tripped any motion sensors or intruder detectors.  And on this wall of the palace, opposite the setting sun and immersed in gloom, her black form climbing the light stone wouldn't be noticeable except to the most discerning eye. 

Mara ran her hands over the surface of the wall, feeling for the gaps between the marble blocks and the shapes of the outcroppings on the rough-hewn stones.  It didn't take her long to reach her decision.  She tugged off her black gloves and tucked them into her belt, then bent down and removed her boots. 

Interlinking her fingers and extending her arms out in front of her to stretch, Mara took a deep breath, turned around, and began to climb.  Her fingers found purchase as she pulled herself upward, and her bare feet braced on the same narrow spaces in turn.  She used the Force to keep herself calm – steady breathing, patient movements, and relaxed muscles.  Heedless of the sheer plunge beneath her, she swiftly ascended the side of the palace.

With her concentration so intensely focused on her physical efforts, it didn't seem like long at all before Mara had reached the large fifth-story balcony of her vision from the Force.  The sweeping stone patio was nearly fifteen meters long and five meters wide, and the polished stones glimmered in the light from the windows centered midway along the wall.  From here she could see that they weren't windows after all, but rather three adjoining sets of tall glass doors.

Mara hauled herself up onto the far end of the balcony, and stayed flush against the wall and well out of sight of those inside.  Even in the dim illumination from the moon and the room's lights she could see there were no guards posted on the balcony.  For a moment she considered reaching out into the Force to assess the situation, but decided against it on the chance it would reveal her presence – it was possible, after all, that a Sith might be in the room. 

Her bare feet carried her silently to the doors; the middle pair was thrown open inward to allow the cool night breeze to waft inside.  Mara pressed her back to the wall beside the closed doors closest to her and listened.

"… cannot withstand a direct attack," a confident male voice was saying.  "There is no reason to wait."

"I agree," another male voice said.  "A second attack on Alderaan will incite panic throughout the Core."

"Perhaps," a female voice mused.  "But Alderaan is pacifist, and many consider her weak because of it.  Instead we should attack a world that believes itself strong.  Even if our losses are more substantial, the greater effect on the enemy's morale will be more than worth the cost."

"General Sargun is right," said a quiet, cool voice of reason.  "A wise strategist must consider all the alternatives, even ones that might at first seem inferior."

As the grim tactician continued his lecture Mara very carefully leaned to the side and took a quick glance through the glass pane in the door, then almost instantly snapped back to the darkness of the balcony. 

Inside was a long conference table.  Standing at its head, facing her but not looking at the windows, was a thin, elderly man in a gray general's uniform.  Along the two sides of the table sat about two dozen similarly attired officers, listening with rapt attention to their leader.

Mara had no doubt these men and women were the commanders of Argis' military operations, and she was convinced that the leader was the General Tarkin from the Republic's intelligence reports.  As the meeting continued inside it became increasingly clear to her that a major Vyhrragian military attack on the Core was imminent.  That no longer seemed up for debate.

The generals were only deciding on the target. 

Mara knew that it already was too late to warn the Republic.  Even if she had Jaytoo send a message to Coruscant immediately, the Vyhrragians would be sending their orders at the same time.  Presumably their field commanders were ready to strike at a moment's notice – but the Republic would have to scramble forces to defend whatever planet Mara told them about.  With the enemy prepared and the Republic not, that defense would come too late.

She was certain of it. 

So Mara had no choice.  There was only one possible way to stop the Vyhrragian attack.

The generals would never make the decision. 

Mara reached down to her utility belt and retrieved the single thermal detonator she'd brought along from the _Lady Vader_'s arsenal.  Cupping the small sphere in her palm, she ran her fingers over the smooth metal surface of the deadly weapon.  Then she took a deep breath.  There would be no climbing down, not with the devastation the explosion would cause to the palace.  She would be pelted by falling debris or crushed by a collapsing wall long before she ever made it to the grass below. 

She'd really gotten herself in a bind this time. 

Mara leaned her head back against the cool stone of the wall and closed her eyes.  After a series of slow, deep breaths she opened them again and smirked.  She hadn't been Anakin Skywalker's apprentice for over a decade without learning a thing or two about getting out of ridiculous situations.

Mara walked quickly out from the wall until she reached the stone balustrade of the balcony.  She crouched down and looked back toward the open balcony doors of the conference room.  She steeled her concentration, thumbed the timer on the thermal detonator, and gave it a single click. 

_Ten._ 

She released the sphere into a slow, ten-second roll across the polished stones of the balcony, straight toward the unsuspecting meeting inside the open doors.   Then Mara spun around and bounded atop the stone balustrade – and leaped off into the night. 

_Nine… Eight…_

The wind rustled her flight suit, froze her skin, and whipped her loose hair as she plummeted through the chilly air with her arms and legs spread wide to create as much drag as possible. 

_Seven… Six…_

Mara extended her perceptions in the Force to enhance her limited eyesight – and snatched hold of a thick branch of one of the trees.  The rough bark tore and burned at her bare palms as she swung herself around to dissipate her momentum.  She released the branch and tucked her body into a spin to consume the rest of the kinetic energy of her plunge.  Using the Force to cushion her fall, she thumped ungraciously to the grass. 

_Four…_

Shunting aside the agonizing shock of her collision with the ground, Mara sprang to her feet and reached out with the Force.  From a dozen meters away her boots launched into the air and plopped into her hands.  She ignored stings of pain from her wounded palms and ran as fast as she could. 

_One…_

Mara ducked behind a tree, then turned back to look.  High above a brilliant explosion of red and yellow and orange flame erupted from the lighted windows of the meeting room balcony.  Chunks of stone blasted out in all directions from the detonation, which engulfed a huge swath of the fifth, sixth, and fourth floors around the vaporized room.  The concussive roar of the blast shook her ribs in her chest and swayed the tree she leaned on. 

And in the Force she felt the enemy generals die. 

All of them. 

Mara ducked into a crouch behind the tree and pressed out with the Force to form a protective barrier around her body.  But only a few small pieces of debris came in her direct vicinity, and those bounced away harmlessly off the tree.  Quickly Mara tugged on her boots and ran farther off into the grounds of the palace.  She didn't stop until the raging fires in the south wing were a flickering ball of light in the distance. 

Mara slumped to the ground and braced her back against a tree trunk, and a moment later her comlink beeped.  She snatched it from her belt.  "I'm here."

Jaytoo blooped and honked a speedy message.  "Yeah, I know," Mara chuckled.  "That was me."

The droid whistled approvingly, then trilled a warning.  "Thanks," she replied.  "I will."

Cooled by the brisk nighttime breeze, Mara finally allowed herself to relax.  She found a few bacta swabs in her utility belt and wiped clean the small cuts and abrasions on her palms.  Then she closed her eyes and opened her mind to the Force, using its energy to soothe her tired muscles and calm her thoughts.  She didn't have time for meditation, but the sensations of the Force were refreshing all the same.

And then, suddenly, an unmistakable presence reached out for hers. 

Luke. 

Without hesitation Mara slammed down the barriers around her mind and pulled her awareness back to herself.  Instinctively she sprang to her feet and snapped her lightsaber handle into her palm. 

It took her only a second to realize how foolish that reaction was.  Mara clipped her weapon to her belt again and crossed her arms over her chest. 

Mara scowled.  So Luke was here.  On Vyhrrag.  She knew it with absolute certainty.  He couldn't have come here looking for her – Jaytoo had confirmed that the _Lady _Vader's tracking signals all were disabled, so there was no way he could have known where she was.  That left only one possibility – he'd been sent on an unrelated mission to Vyhrrag. 

Good for him. 

Mara had her own business to attend to – her vision had shown her two targets, and only one of them had been eliminated.  It was time to deal with the other.  Mara began to stride confidently toward the palace again.  The hunt was on, and the palace was as good a place as any to start. 

Tonight would be Argis' last. 


	12. Chapter Ten

**CHAPTER TEN**

Beneath the durafabric roof of the sturdy open tent the glowlamps flickered on as the dimness of evening began to fall over the base camp.  Leia looked across the small table and smiled.  "You won't regret this."

The dark-skinned young man seated opposite her frowned.  "We'll see."

She appraised the Colonel again.  The rebel leader was much younger than she had expected – her age, or at most only a few years older.  Still, the weariness in his eyes and the battle-hardened edge to his face showed clearly the toll the long insurrection in the Vyhrragian forest had taken on him.  He had suffered far more than anyone his age should have to experience, and she couldn't really blame him for being cynical well beyond his years. 

"Tell me something, if you don't mind," she said as amiably as she could.  "How did you end up out here?  There must be quite a death mark on your head for it."

The Colonel nodded slowly.  "That there is, Senator.  As for all this…  It started with my father."

Leia could hear the wistfulness in his voice.  "Your father?"

"Yes," he replied.  "He was one of the best generals in our army.  Our defense force.  The real Army of Vyhrrag, the one that protected our people – not that perversion Argis has created; not those conquering legions making war against you."

She met his somber gaze.  "And he couldn't support what Argis became."

"At first we all believed in Argis," he said, nodding again.  "We believed in the principles he stood for.  We believed in justice for the weak and the impoverished.  We believed in equality in the Republic and for our people.  How could we not?  Have you ever read about what our planet was like a decade ago?  Before the tyranny?"

"Only a little," Leia admitted.  "Enough to know why Argis' message was so seductive here."

"Then you understand," he said.  "My father had such high hopes.  A young king, motivated to seek a better future for our planet.  It all seemed so promising.  But soon it became clear to him that Argis wasn't interested in justice – only in power.  Aggression.  Domination."

Leia knew what was next.  "How did your father die?"

The Colonel closed his eyes.  "About a year into Argis' reign all the officers who opposed his plans were rounded up in the middle of the night.  They were executed on the grounds of the royal palace at dawn.  Their families too.  Every last one of them."

"I'm sorry."

"Thank you."  The young man opened his eyes and met her gaze again.  "I wasn't home that night.  I was with a girl, the daughter of another general.  Our mischief put us out of harm's way, you see.  Otherwise we'd have died right along with them.  We went into hiding together, and took up arms against the king.  Eventually we found others who thought as we did, and slowly we formed an underground resistance.  The forests have been our best place to hide."

"And…"

"Three years ago in battle.  She died in my arms."

"I'm so sorry."

He tipped his head in acknowledgement.  "She's a martyr to our cause.  One of many.  Far too many."

"Five years of guerrilla war…"  Leia shook her head.  "I can't even imagine."

The Colonel actually smiled a little.  "But now it seems our struggle finally may be at an end.  Tell me, Senator, how did this invasion come about?  I find it difficult to believe the Galactic Senate would have acted in such a decisive manner after all its failures in the war thus far."

"They didn't," Leia said firmly.  "Not the Senate."

"Of course not.  This is why the people of Vyhrrag – the real people, the citizens – lost faith in the Republic."

"I hope someday we can earn their respect again," Leia said.  "But you're right.  In the year since the Declaration of War was passed, the Senate has done nothing but hinder military strategy.  The politicians think they know better than generals and admirals how to fight Argis – when they even were concerned about the fighting at all."

The Colonel chuckled grimly.  "Yes.  That sounds very much like the Senate I remember."

Leia sighed.  As much as she believed in democracy and the Senate, in moments like this she couldn't blame the man for his feelings.  "A few days ago it became clear the war effort was hopelessly stalled.  Alliances in the Senate were blocking the military's ability to deploy the full range of forces to the front – deployments that would defeat Argis once and for all.  Decisive action was necessary, so my mother invoked a rarely used power of the Supreme Chancellor to adjourn the Senate indefinitely.  Without the Senate in session, there was no way for the Senators to stop her from ordering the deployments.  But of course what she really authorized was this invasion."

The Colonel leaned back in his chair and blew out a deep, hissing breath.  "No lack of irony there."

"No."

"Nonetheless, the symbolic value of her action is important."

Leia raised her eyebrows.  "How so?"

"The Supreme Chancellor adjourned the Senate," he said slowly.  "She did not dissolve it and call new elections.  She did not disband it and claim unilateral executive authority.  She invoked the power with the least possibility of tyranny.  And that, Senator, is a testament to her integrity."

Leia knew there was a look of disbelief on her face, but she couldn't get rid of it. 

"We may not admire the Senate and the Republic," he said with a wink, "but we teach our children its laws and its history all the same.  And now we have seen the alternative first hand.  Did you know that for centuries Vyhrrag had convened a parliament of its own, until Argis disbanded it entirely months after his coronation?"

"No, I didn't know that."

"Now you do."  The Colonel rose from his chair and strode around the small table.  He offered Leia his hand.  "If you inherited your forthrightness and honor from your mother, Senator, then it would appear the Republic is in very good hands indeed."

Leia accepted his gesture and pulled herself to her feet with his leverage.  "It is, Colonel.  I promise you that.  We won't let you down, and neither will my mother."

He nodded.  "Then I will have nothing to regret." 

She shook his hand firmly, then released her grip.  "I think it's time I introduced you to my brother, Colonel.  You and he have much to discuss."

"That we do, Senator," he said.  "Lead the way."

---

Anakin clasped his hands behind his head and leaned back in the chair.  He stretched out his legs and propped up his booted feet on the front edge of the Supreme Chancellor's elegant formal desk. 

Padmé must have heard the soft thump, because she stopped her pacing at the wide window behind the desk and turned to face him.  "Are you comfortable?"

"Very."

"Put your feet down, Anakin."

"Stop pacing, Padmé."

She paused, frowning.  "Fine.  But if you scuff it, you're polishing it."

"Deal."  He watched her resume her methodical trek, her small form a solemn shadow moving slowly across the sparkling nighttime cityscape of Coruscant far beyond the window.  "Ackbar's report was reassuring, at least," he said.  "No problems yet.  No leaks.  Victory Strike is working."

Padmé was gazing aimlessly out the window as she walked.  "I know it is."

"So why are you so anxious about it?"

"Because I'm worried it's too late.  I'm worried it's not enough.  I'm worried it won't matter."

He furrowed his brow.  "By tomorrow night Argis will have surrendered."

"Yes," she said.  "But what about the Sith?  They're the real enemy.  Not Argis.  And Victory Strike doesn't do anything to defeat the Sith."

"I suppose not," he admitted quietly.  "But their end is coming soon too, angel.  I promise."

Padmé briefly glanced over at him.  "How can you be certain, Ani?"

"I can feel it in the Force," Anakin said, smiling warmly at her before she looked out the window again.  "When I meditated earlier I could sense the pull of destiny like I never have before.  Everything is coming together.  Not just the war, angel.  Everything.  It's almost over."

She continued to pace and gaze into the night.  For a long moment she didn't reply.  "I believe you," she finally said.  "I believe you.  I just hope the price isn't too great."

"As do I," he said.  "That's something even I can't foresee."

She turned to face him again and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.  "How much higher can the price be, Anakin?  How much more do we have to sacrifice?"

"I don't know."

"It's been almost two years since it started."

He nodded, and lowered his arms to cross them over his chest.  "Since Jarren was murdered."

"Yes."  She shook her head.  "He was so young.  Like Millius.  They were both so young."

"I know, angel.  I'm sorry."

"And Obi-Wan.  And Jenny.  Who else are they going to take from us, Ani?  Who else?"

"If I could foresee it, would you really want to know?"

Padmé snapped her eyes to his, but didn't say anything.

"No, angel," Anakin said.  "I can't see the future.  And it's better that way.  It's better without that burden."

She blinked, then nodded.  "When I think back to Gimna 3… We almost lost three of our children at once, Ani.  Oga could've killed Danaé.  Bryon shouldn't have been able to survive those injuries.  And if… if… Obi-Wan hadn't given his life, Luke would be dead.  I can't even imagine what that would've been like."

"I can't either," he said.  "I try not to think about it."

"Sometimes I can't help it, though.  Sometimes I can't help but worry about the future.  About their future."

"I know.  It's only human."

With a deep sigh she stopped pacing and lowered herself into her chair across the desk.  "At least when this war is over Bryon and Sarré will finally be able to just be parents.  Without all the rest getting in the way."

"Yes," he said.  "And they'll be good at it too.  Really good."

She smiled for the first time in hours.  "Better than us, you think?"

He grinned too.  "Possibly."

"How many children do you think they'll have?"

"Three."  Anakin nodded decisively, and lowered his feet to the floor so he could see her face better.  "Yes.  Three."

Padmé gave him a confused look.  "That sounded awfully definitive."

"Well, we have four," he explained, "and Sabé and Alain have two.  So they'll split the difference."

She laughed.  "Can't argue with logic like that."

"See, angel?  The future will take care of itself."

"I know.  And we're doing our part to make it as bright as it can be."

"Exactly."

She scooted down in her chair and stretched out too.  "I know you enjoy tormenting Captain Solo," she said, "but he's a good man.  I think he's right for Leia.  I just have a feeling about it."

"I don't doubt it," he chuckled.  "But she's my little girl.  I'll always look out for her."

"Even if she doesn't want you to."

Anakin grinned.  "Yes.  Think about it this way – if Han can't handle me, there's no _way_ he can handle Leia."

Padmé laughed so hard she cried.  "When you put it that way," she sputtered when she found her voice, "it makes a lot of sense."

"Not to mention it's fun."

"Obviously."  She took a deep breath, then got comfortable in the chair again.  "Do you think Danaé will ever fall in love that way?"

He looked out at the multitude of brilliantly colored nighttime lights of the skyline.  "No.  She has the spirit of the old Jedi Order, angel.  Like Obi-Wan or Yoda."

She nodded.  "Not like Luke or Mara, you mean."

"Or like me," he said with a wink.  "You're right about Luke and Mara, though.  The Jedi are in transition.  It's gradual, of course, but it's there all the same.  The Order is very different now than it was when I joined.  It will continue to change.  And we're seeing that in our own children – and our grandson."

Padmé gazed off thoughtfully into the room.  "One of the last of the old, and some of the first of the new.  Right in our little family."

"It's not so little any more, you know."  Anakin smirked when she glanced over in surprise.  "It used to be just the six of us.  Then Sarré.  And Nyklas.  Captain Solo is well on his way.  Mara even sooner than him, probably.  And before you know it we're at ten.  Then eleven, and twelve.  Then –"

"I get the message," she laughed, cutting him off.  "I guess I'd better start getting used to the idea."

"Yes.  You'd better."

"While we're on the subject of Luke and Mara," she said, "why are they being so secretive?  They can't possibly think we don't know what's going on, can they?"

"I wish I knew," Anakin confessed.  "It's Bryon and Sarré all over again, and it's driving me mad."

Padmé shook her head in frustration.  "No kidding."

"Whatever it is," he mused, "I know one thing for certain.  They may be destined to become powerful Jedi, but they can't deny the will of the Force.  No one can."

For another long moment she closed her eyes, then opened them again.  "I trust in the Force.  I've played my part in these events.  Now all I can do is wait, and have faith in the future – and in tomorrow."

"Well said, angel."  He pushed off from the armrests of his chair and rose to his feet.  "It's late, and you've worried enough for one night.  It's time to get Nyklas, and go home."

"No," she said, standing up across the desk from him.  "He's probably asleep already.  We should let him be."

Of all the things she might have said, that would have been the very last one he would have guessed.  Anakin raised his eyebrows.  "Angel?"

Padmé strode quickly around the desk and took his hands in hers.  "The future is his, Ani," she said quietly.  "The present is ours.  I want to forget the future, and forget the past, and spend tonight in the moment.  You and me.  Just the two of us."

He wrapped an arm around her waist and led her toward the office door.  "I like the sound of that."

There was a sudden flush to her face.  "I knew you would."

He pulled her a little closer – and their pace quickened just a bit as they headed into the corridor and straight toward his airspeeder.

---****

Mara glided swiftly through the corridor of the royal palace, constantly scanning her surroundings in the Force and trying to determine the best strategy for finding Argis.  Occasionally the blaring of alarms broke the eerie silence in the hallways, and now and then she had to duck into an alcove or doorway to conceal herself from passing groups of panicked officials or squads of brownshirts.  The chaos from the devastation of the south wing apparently even had prevented the Vyhrragians from mounting an effective search for intruders.  That meant for the most part her transit through the palace was unimpeded, and already she'd made it from the south wing into the more heavily guarded central chambers. 

The problem was that she still didn't know her next move.

Mara stopped and leaned back against the wall.  She needed a plan, and quickly.  Time was short, and she couldn't afford to waste it on a room-to-room search.  She needed answers, and she needed them now.

Mara closed her eyes and extended her perceptions in the Force from her immediate corridor into the surrounding spaces of the palace.  She pushed aside the surging terror she felt from Argis' minions and focused on the locations of the various individuals nearby.  Considering the possibilities, she made a choice.

A short distance down the next hallway she found the door and tapped the keypad.  The door to the small security post swished upward and Mara strode through.  Standing just inside the portal was a brownshirt with his blaster rifle held at attention across his chest; across the room at a data station an officer in a gray uniform was monitoring a series of security cam viewscreens.

The door began to swish closed behind her, and the brownshirt glanced over at the new arrival.

"Hey," the enemy soldier said, "you're not –"

His words were silenced when Mara's shimmering violet laser sword decapitated him with a single violent, one-handed arc.  His head thumped to the floor simultaneously with the door's closing clang.

The officer already had sprung to his feet and was facing her with his hands held up in surrender.  "Please don't kill me," he begged.  "I'll tell you whatever you want to know."

_How boring…_  Three quick strides brought Mara right up to him, and she leveled her lightsaber across his throat.

"Please don't kill me," the officer yelped, sweat already beading on his face.

Mara put her energy blade even closer to the skin of his neck.  "Where is Argis now?"

"What?"

"You heard me.  Where's Argis?"

The officer swallowed hard.  "I don't know."

Mara narrowed her eyes.  The Force told her he wasn't lying – but he didn't know that.  "You don't know?"

"No," he said.  "He's not in my sector.  That's all I can tell you."

"Really?"

The man was trembling now.  "Yes.  Really.  I swear."

Mara drew her thrumming purple lightsaber back just a bit.  "Your best guess, then.  You're under attack.  Where would he go?"

"I… I'm not sure."

"A bunker?  A command center?  Flee the palace?"  Mara extinguished her weapon.  "Your best guess.  That's all."

The officer sighed loudly and his shoulders slumped in relief.  "The throne room.  He'll probably be in command from the throne room."

Mara nodded.  "And that's where?"

Without hesitation he told her, and for that Mara let him live. 

---

"I'll give the orders now," the Colonel said.  "With a head start of an hour or two, we'll have Argis' forces in the entire province in disarray by the time we hit the generator."

"Good," Bryon said.  "We need every advantage we can get."

"I couldn't agree more," the rebel commander replied.  "After I send the transmissions I'll gather up my squads and have them get the extra bikes ready.  We'll be on our way soon."

Bryon saluted crisply.  "You know where to find me."

"That I do," the Colonel said, already jogging off.

Bryon paced over to the nearest massive tree trunk, flopped his back against it, and slid ungracefully to the ground in a heap.  He crossed his arms over his bent knees and let his forehead thump to rest on them.  He closed his eyes and breathed slowly.  Somehow he had to find a way to restore his energy.  But there was so much to do…

He was jolted back to reality by the fingers of a small hand brushing through his hair.  "Bryon?"

"Hey there, you," he said to Sarré as he turned to look at her without lifting his head.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm worried."

"About what?"

He sighed deeply.  "About everything."

She tugged him toward her, and he put his head on her shoulder.  "The planning seemed to be going well when I left," she said.  "Did something go wrong?"

"No.  The rebels have small squads of soldiers throughout the forest and quite a few near the capital.  They're going to execute simultaneous attacks on targets as soon as the orders can go out.  They'll hit outposts and convoys and landing pads.  Whatever they can.  And the rest will strike deep into the city."

"Sounds very distracting if you're Argis."

"It will be."  Bryon took a deep breath, and wrapped his arms around her.  "It's a good diversion."

"And what about the attack on the generator?"

"There are enough speeder bikes for all of us, and two-plus squads of the rebels."

Sarré tightened the embrace and leaned her cheek on the top of his head.  "Plus the three squads of ours who are waiting for the signal.  That's nearly a hundred!"

"Yes."

"And we'll still get there in plenty of time.  Right?"

"Right.  Probably even before Winter's squad does."

"So what's the problem?"

He blew out another deep breath.  "Too many things can still go wrong."

Shockingly, Sarré burst out laughing.  So hard she doubled over.  And gasped for air.  And had to wipe her eyes. 

Bryon scowled.  "What's so funny?"

"You… and… it's just… oh… and…"

He glowered even more sternly at her, and waited.

"I'm sorry," she said after she'd controlled herself.  "I really am."

"Care to explain the humor in this?"

"Bryon, I love you dearly," she said.  "But you really are an idiot."

"Thanks for clearing that up."

"Keep quiet and listen, General."  She leaned in and kissed him on the lips, then sat back against the tree at his side.  "We're on schedule.  We have a diversion.  We have new allies.  Everything's fine.  Maybe it's not the way you drew it up, but if anything we're better off."

Despite himself, Bryon smiled a bit.  "I suppose you have a point."

"Of course I do."

"And?"

"And besides," Sarré said with a wink, "you're a Skywalker."

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning even if things do go wrong, you'll still find some absurdly crazy way to turn it to your advantage."

He chuckled.  "That's my father's specialty, my love.  Not mine."

She rolled her eyes.  "Right.  And I suppose all those stories of amazing victories against ridiculous odds – you know, the ones you have all the medals for?  The ones that got you made a general at twenty? – I suppose those are all just a bunch of lies?"

He grinned.  "All of them.  Deceits and falsehoods to lure you into my bed."

She smacked him on the back of his head.  "Shut up, Bryon."

"Oww!"  He rubbed his hand over the smarting spot.  "That one _hurt_!"

"Good," she said.  "It'll give you something to think about instead of your stupid fears."

"That's not very nice."

"I don't care if it's nice," Sarré said, smirking unrepentantly.  "I only care if it works."

"If you weren't my wife… well, you'd never get away with this, I assure you."

"Probably not."  She kissed him.  "But I am, so I can get away with anything."

Bryon laughed helplessly.  It was truly remarkable how in a matter of minutes she'd made all his anxieties disappear.  He didn't know what he'd have done on this mission without her.  "I know," he said, pulling her into an embrace again.  "And I wouldn't have it any other way."

---

Han was stretching out his arms and back against one of the huge tree trunks along the perimeter of the rebel base camp when a familiar laugh interrupted his concentration. 

"You sure you're up to this, old man?"

"You bet your life, kid," he said over his shoulder as he finished the stretch.  "I've never been better."

Luke shrugged.  "If you say so."

"Let me tell you something," Han shot back, turning around to face Leia's twin brother.  "When you don't have anything to do all day but sit around and stare at a wall, you learn real quick that pushups and sit-ups and stuff like that can get pretty interesting after all."

Luke raised an eyebrow.  "Sit-ups, huh?  What's the most you ever did in a row?" 

"Hundred sixty-two."

"No way."

"You don't believe me?"  Han took two long strides forward and pointed to his abdomen.  "Come on.  Take a shot.  They're like durasteel now."

Luke shook his head.  "That's all right.  I'll pass."

"What?  Think you'll hurt me?  Come on.  Just one punch."

"I don't think so, Han."

"Why not?"

Luke grinned.  "Because you're wearing body armor under those fatigues."

Han smirked right back at him.  "Can't get anything past a Jedi Knight, huh?"

"Not that easily, anyway."

"Too bad."

"Not that I don't believe you.  I'm sure you're in excellent physical condition."

"That's right I am," Han said.  "I'm probably stronger than you, if you don't cheat and use the Force."

Luke cocked an eyebrow.  "That sounds like a challenge."

"Maybe it is."

"All right, then.  I'll remember."

"So will I."

"Good," Luke said.  Then he gazed off into the forest around them.  "So, you're going inside the generator building with the demolitions team?"

"That's the plan," Han said.  "I'm pretty good at the close-quarters shooting part of it, with all the shipboard combat drills and action I've seen."

Luke nodded.  "Makes sense.  Do you have any demolitions training?"

Han shrugged.  "Some.  Chewie more than me.  Bryon's demo guys are the real pros."

"No doubt about that."

"So what's your part of the plan?"

"It's left open," Luke replied, still looking off into the forest.  "Wherever I'm needed most, that's where I go."

Han laughed.  "Sounds about right for a Jedi."

Luke glanced over at him.  "The Force will guide me.  I'll know what to do."

"Sure, kid, whatever you say."

"How about this?  You trust me to follow the Force, and I'll trust you not to lose Leia again."

"That wasn't my fault!"

"Whatever you say."

Han glowered.  "Don't press your luck, kid."

Luke smirked.  "And you keep track of my sister or you'll be –"

"Or he'll be _what_?"  Leia's voice startled them both.  "Do I have to keep you two separated?"

Luke smiled innocently.  "Of course not, Leia."

"Yeah, no need for that," Han said.  "Your brother here was just backing up your dad."

Leia narrowed her eyes at Luke.  "Really."

"That's right," Han continued.  "The whole 'would be a shame to have to hunt you down and kill you' routine."

Leia kept staring at her twin.  "Is this true?"

Luke swallowed hard.  "Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"Um… well, more like yes."

When the kid couldn't even hold his sister's gaze and looked down at his boots, Han chuckled.

And suddenly Han was the victim of the same blistering stare.  "Tell me, Han," said Leia in a low voice, "does something amuse you?"

Han swallowed hard and did his best to frown solemnly.  "Nope, Princess.  Nothing at all."

"I thought so," Leia said, still fixing him with that stare. 

And then, when she was sure Luke wasn't looking, she winked at him – and Han laughed.  On the inside.

---****

Leia found Luke standing at the edge of the bank of the small river that ran through the forest a few dozen meters from the perimeter of the rebel's base camp.  Her twin brother had his arms crossed over his chest, and he was staring off into the gloomy blackness of the forest beyond the rushing water.  Here and there around him the orange glow of dusk trickled through the leaves of the towering trees, but where he gazed there was only darkness.

"I saw them set aside the fastest speeder bike especially for you," she said.  "What's going on?"

He didn't turn around.  "I'm leaving."

"You're leaving?  Now?  Why?"

"I have to go."

She strode to his side and put her hand on his shoulder.  "You can't leave.  We need you."

He shook his head, and still wouldn't look at her.  "You don't need me.  You have Danaé."

"Luke," she barked, "tell me what's going on right now!"

"I sensed her.  I know where she is."

"Who?  The Sith Master?"

"No."  He finally looked at her, and his eyes were bloodshot from crying.  "Mara."

Leia blinked.  "She's here?  On Vyhrrag?"

"Yes," he said, his wavering voice barely audible.  "At the royal palace."

"Why?  The Council didn't send her, did they?"

"No."

"Then why?"

"She's killing them, Leia."  Her brother took a slow, shuddering breath.  "Argis' commanders.  Argis.  She's hunting them down like animals.  All of them."

Leia snorted.  "I don't see why that's an upsetting thought."

"Think about it, Leia."

"What?"

He only held her gaze in an intense stare.  The usually bright blue in his eyes seemed dull.  Indistinct.  Clouded. 

It didn't take her more than another few heartbeats to figure it out.  "The dark side.  She's using the dark side."

Luke nodded, and he uncrossed his arms and wrapped one around her shoulders. 

"Oh," she whispered, because it was all she could think of to say.  "Oh.  Oh, no."

"I have to go to her," he finally said.  "I don't have a choice."

"Luke, I don't –"

"No," he interrupted.  "No.  I have to go.  This is my fault."

Leia scowled.  "It's not your fault.  Mara has to make her own choices.  She knows better."

"Yes," he said.  "But that's not enough sometimes.  You know that."

She was about to keep arguing with him, but then a frightening chill ran down her spine.  The terrifying feeling made her shiver.  "I know.  I'm sorry."

Luke looked hard into her eyes.  "I can save her.  I just hope I get there in time.  I have to try."

Leia smiled weakly.  "Do or do not.  There is no try."

"I'll save her."  He smiled back as best he could while leaving unsaid the price of failure.

She couldn't help herself, and slammed him into a fierce embrace.  "Don't go," she pleaded.  "Stay here with us." 

"You know I can't do that," he said tenderly.  "Any more than you could have given up on Han."

"But the mission, Luke," she said frantically.  "It depends on you."

"No, it doesn't, Leia." 

"We need you!"

Luke kissed her forehead.  "Mara needs me more."

All of her desperation drained out of her, and Leia collapsed into him.  She sobbed into his chest until she found her voice again.  "Be careful.  Be safe.  Be strong."

He squeezed her tightly.  "I will."

She released him, and gave him a gentle push back toward the base camp.  He had made such an awful decision – and her letting him go paled in comparison.  "May the Force be with you."

"And also with you."  Her twin brother turned and began to walk away.

Just before he was out of sight, the most horrible thought occurred to her.  Her body quaking with fear, she called out to him.  "Luke!  Wait!"

He stopped, and turned back over his shoulder to look at her. 

She fought back her tears.  "Could you do it?"

"Could I do what?"

"If she's gone to the dark side…  If you had to…  Could you kill her?"

Luke shook his head.  "No," he said as he disappeared into the darkness of the forest.  "No, I couldn't."

---

Han was starting to think he'd gone crazy.  He couldn't possibly have lost Leia twice in one day.  No way.  That would make him pretty much the worst guy ever, and he knew he wasn't that bad.  Was he?  No, he wasn't.  He just had to find Leia before anyone realized she was missing.  Otherwise, Bryon was going to kill him – or Luke would turn around and come back to do it himself.  Yeah, that was certain, all right.  Han had better find Leia, and fast, or he was a dead man.

He was at the edge of his wits when he thought to check the riverbank. 

And sure enough, there she was.  Han had never felt more relieved at anything in his entire life. 

"Hey, Princess," he said as he walked up to her.  "Don't go disappearing on me like that."

Only when she turned to face him did he realize her body was shaking with sobs.  In the dappled orange glow of the setting sun that fell on her face he barely could see the tears streaming down her cheeks. 

"I'm sorry," she rasped.  "I didn't mean to worry you."

He stopped in front of her.  "What's wrong?  What's the matter?"

"It's Luke," she said.  "He left."

"Yeah, I know."  Han had tried to find out what was going on, but the kid had been in such a hurry he'd only muttered something about saving Mara before he'd hopped on the speeder bike and zoomed away.  From what Han could figure, Mara was about as powerful a Jedi Knight as it got.  So the idea of her needing saving seemed pretty silly.  "I'm sure he'll be all right.  I'm sure he's just upset over nothing."

"It's not nothing, Han," she growled, spinning away from him.  "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Look, sweetheart," he shot back, "I may not have grown up in a family of Jedi, but I know a thing or two about people.  And I don't care what your brother thinks – Mara's no lightweight."

Leia didn't say anything.

"Fine," he spat when he got tired of waiting.  "If you don't want to tell me, I'll just see you later."

He started to turn away from her when she spoke again. 

"Don't go," she whimpered.  "Don't you leave me too."

Han's anger faded the instant he heard the stinging pain in her voice.  He reached out and pulled her into a tight, heartfelt embrace.  "I'm sorry," he said.  "I'm not going anywhere."

Leia cried in his arms for a while until she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and looked up at him.  "I'm so scared," she said hoarsely.  "I can't explain it."

"Luke's strong, and he's smart," Han replied softly.  "I'm sure he'll be fine."

She swallowed hard.  "Then why do I have this awful feeling I'm never going to see him again?"

He pulled her closer, and rubbed his hands along her back.  "I don't know, Princess.  I don't know."

---

It turned out that Argis' throne room was only a quick jog from the security station, and Mara had no difficulty getting there without encountering any obstacles.  She spun on her heel around the corner and marched straight toward the room's massive doors, igniting her lightsaber again as she went.

The four brownshirts guarding the entrance opened fire immediately with their rifles. 

Mara flicked her blade back and forth effortlessly in her two-handed grip, trusting in the Force to guide her hands and deflect away each and every blaster bolt.  She didn't break stride for even an instant as she advanced on them – and with a quick burst of concentration she plunged her mind into the deep combat intensity of Vaapad.  She felt the deadly tranquility of the battle focus descend over her thoughts.

Two powerful arcs struck down the four enemy soldiers. 

Mara felt a surge of triumph pump through her veins, and she flicked her left palm outward and blasted open the thick gilded doors of the throne room with a thundering pulse of energy in the Force.  Dancing her shimmering violet laser sword with her right hand, she swatted away more shots fired by some of the brownshirts inside – and flicked her left palm again to send half a dozen more sprawling backward into violent collisions with the wall that broke their backs or snapped their necks. 

The remaining troopers charged her – and died. 

Mara stood motionless in the center of the room with her weapon thrumming at her side, and waited.

Seated on the enormous golden throne atop a low, raised dais was a tall, black-bearded man in elegant royal-purple robes.  He kept his hands on the armrests as he held her gaze for a long moment.  Behind him the tall, wide windows revealed an expansive vista of the black, star-speckled sky of night. 

Finally Argis smiled.  "Welcome, Mara Jade."

She smirked.  "I guess this is where I'm supposed to say that it's a pleasure to finally meet you, Your Highness."

Argis chuckled, pushed off from the armrests, and stood.  "So undiplomatic for a Jedi.  I expected more from you, my dear."

"Diplomacy's not my strong suit."

"So I see," he said, indicating the slain brownshirts with a wave of his hand. 

Mara grinned.  "You're next, you know."

"That remains to be determined," Argis said flatly.  He snapped his right hand outward and a crackling burst of blazing blue Force lightning shot straight at her. 

With a nonchalant flick of her wrist Mara whipped her blade in front of her torso, and the laser sword absorbed the onslaught with a hiss of sparks and vapor.

For an instant a stunned look crossed Argis' face. 

"You're a Sith," Mara said, smirking at him again.  "Now tell me something I _don't_ know."

The look vanished, and Argis' hand retrieved a glittering silver lightsaber handle from behind his back.  The scarlet blade ignited with a snap-hiss, and her opponent strode deliberately down the five stairs of the dais and onto the floor a few meters in front of her. 

"It has been far too long since I last killed a Jedi."  The Sith Lord sighed regretfully.  "And I had so been hoping your Master would be my next." 

"My _former_ Master," Mara hissed. 

"Jedi technicalities," he said with a snort.  "I hear he's withdrawn from the war effort.  What a shame.  The Republic could have used a leader of his talent the last few months.  Perhaps then I would not have defeated them so easily."

Mara's grip on her lightsaber tightened to crushing strength.  "His decision was an honorable one," she said in a low, fierce voice.  "He's needed elsewhere."

"To protect his little grandson, you mean?"  Argis advanced two strides.  "Indeed.  My Master is very much looking forward to beginning the training of her newest apprentice."

A chill ran down Mara's spine.  "What?"

"Oh, yes," the Sith Lord said.  "The rest of you will die, but he will be ours."

"No, he won't," Mara spat.  "Never.  Anakin will stop you."

"We'll see."  Argis strode forward again, stopping just out of striking distance.  "In the meantime your Master is cowering in fear on Coruscant when he should be here, facing his destiny."

Mara took a two-handed grip on her blade and set her feet in a combat stance.  Her mind remained fully immersed in Vaapad, and her muscles tensed in preparation.  "He doesn't have to be," she said.  "I am."

Argis raised his eyebrows.  "You?"

"Me."

"So… you're what, exactly?  His little lieutenant?  His pet assassin?"

Mara narrowed her eyes.  "You might say… I'm his right hand."

"Interesting," he said.  "You think you can do his dirty work."

"I don't think," Mara growled.  "I know.  I've killed two of your friends already."

Argis laughed.  "You will find I am much stronger than they."

"Prove it."

In a blur Mara charged, her violet blade pounding into her enemy's scarlet one with swift, powerful strikes.  Argis retreated under the barrage, backstepping rapidly as he parried blow after blow.  He was quite a bit taller than she, but after over a decade sparring against Anakin it didn't come close to mattering.  Mara didn't let up, sending attack upon attack at the Sith Lord.

His defenses held, but not by much.  Mara struck high and low, left and right, over and under, each swing and arc more precise than the last.  Her hands followed the guidance of the Force, and the brilliant might of Vaapad unleashed all its terrible fury against her opponent.

Argis lunged with all his strength to shove her blade off his, then spun away to gain a few meters' distance between them.  The Sith Lord set his feet and readied his scarlet lightsaber again.

Mara spun the tip of her violet laser sword in a small circle and locked her opponent in a penetrating stare.  She had killed many enemies already today, and it was time to kill again.

"The first two were far too easy anyway," she told him in a quiet, cold, calm voice that sounded nothing like her own.  "I'm going to enjoy this one."


	13. Chapter Eleven

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

Anakin strode through the open portal and emerged onto the small balcony on the main spire of the Jedi Temple.  On the eastern horizon the orange glow of dawn gradually was brightening the dark sky.  He joined his old friend and fellow Jedi Council member in leaning against the low stone railing. 

"You have my deepest sympathy for your loss," Valin Halcyon said quietly.  "Jenny will be missed."

Anakin tipped his head.

Valin tapped his fingers restlessly on his crossed arms.  "The Sith will strike again, and soon.  The disturbances in the Force are building toward it."

"I sense that too."

Valin nodded.  "We all believe you will prevail, Anakin.  If we can assist you in any way…"

"I know, and I thank you for it.  I may be the Chosen One, but I can foresee nothing about our final confrontation with the Sith."  Anakin ran his fingers through his short gray hair.  "I would be honored to have you at my side, if we are able to determine such things."

"And I would be honored to be there.  I cannot help but think, however, that the determination will not be left to us."

"No.  It will be made by the Sith.  Or by the Force."

"They both have an unlimited capacity to surprise us."  Valin chuckled in resignation.  "The Force, at least, sometimes makes it a pleasant one."

Anakin chuckled too.  "I suppose one never knows.  But I'm not going to count on it."

Valin frowned.  "Our inability to see clearly through the Force leaves us at a significant disadvantage against the Sith.  I wish we could do more than sense that some kind of showdown is near."

"But even that is better than nothing," Anakin pointed out.  "At least we can all be on guard.  At least we will be ready.  Think of what could happen if we were completely unaware."

"A fair point."

Anakin gazed off into the warms hues of morning in the distance.  "And there's something more.  Something I can't quite explain.  A contradiction.  An aberration of some kind.  And it's arisen only in the last day."

"Yes.  I've felt it as well.  And I think perhaps I can explain it," Valin said.  "I came upon an idea last night while watching the flow of water in the Room of a Thousand Fountains."

"Go on."

"The power of the dark side is growing," Valin said slowly.  "Yet fading at the same time.  In the present.  The fading is not simply an impression in the Force of their ultimate defeat – the fading is already occurring.  The Sith are gaining strength, and at the same time losing it."

Anakin thought about it for a moment.  "That's it," he finally said.  "That's it exactly."

Valin furrowed his brow.  "I've never felt anything like it before.  It doesn't make sense."

"There is sense to it," Anakin said.  "There must be.  We just haven't figured out what it is yet."

"You're right, of course," Valin conceded with a sigh.  "I hope we can discover its meaning before it's too late."

"As do I," Anakin said, then pushed off from the railing.  "Thank you for your wisdom.  I'd best be on my way, though.  My wife is expecting me home shortly with our grandson."

Valin laughed.  "And it would not be wise to disappoint her."

Heading for the open doorway, Anakin laughed too.  "No.  It certainly wouldn't."

Soon he had made his way to the living quarters deep within the Temple complex.  He tapped the button on the door panel of a familiar room and waited for the soft beep that indicated permission to enter.  After it sounded Anakin waved open the door and paced inside.

Barriss Offee looked up from her seat on her bed, where she held Nyklas bundled up in her arms.  "I'm so sorry to hear about your friend, Anakin," she said gently.  "If there is anything we can do for you or Padmé, just ask."

"We appreciate it," he said, nodding.  Then he blinked to fight off his shock that the baby boy was actually asleep.  "So, how much trouble did my grandson give you?"

"Only a little," Aayla Secura replied.  The Twi'lek woman rose from her chair in the corner and walked to Anakin's side.  "Mostly he's just a sweetheart."

Anakin raised his eyebrows.  "Nyklas?  There must be some mistake."

"No mistake."  Barriss grinned as she stood up too.  "We just spoiled him rotten."

"We did," Aayla put in with a sly wink.  "He's too adorable.  I can't deny him anything."

"Wonderful," Anakin groaned in mock indignation.  "It should be a joy when we get home, then."

Barriss passed the sleeping infant to him.  "Still no word from Mara?"

"None," he said, settling Nyklas against his chest.  "But I don't need it.  I believe in her."

"And we believe in you," Aayla said. 

Anakin nodded.  "Padmé needs me today.  You know how to reach me if there is any urgent Council business."

"Of course," Barriss said.  "Unlikely, however.  Don't trouble yourself about it."

"Until next time, then," he said.  "May the Force be with you."

Aayla nodded.  "And also with you."

"Yes," Barriss added quickly, almost as an afterthought.  "May the Force be with you, Anakin."

---

Danaé flew the speeder bike through the forest with her eyes closed, relying on her perceptions in the Force to guide her hands.  The line of bikes in front of and behind her tore through the trees at breakneck speed.  One after another they swerved around the massive tree trunks, rose over underbrush, and dipped under low-hanging limbs.  Their path through the maze of flora was not at all readily apparent, but the rebel scouts at the head of the column emanated nothing but firm confidence into the Force. 

Heedless of the countless possibilities for a violent and deadly collision with a tree the speeder bikes flew at maximum velocity toward the planetary shield generator.  The time for the final attack had come.

Keeping her eyes shut, Danaé released her conscious thoughts to the guidance of her awareness and her instincts and drew upon the soothing energies of the living Force in the forest to soothe her troubled thoughts.  This mission was not going to be easy – and it was going to be even more difficult if she allowed her anxieties to distract her.

So she wouldn't.  She didn't have a choice.

Soon Danaé sensed the lead bikes slowing, and she opened her eyes to prepare for their arrival.  A few seconds later the bikes hummed and whirred, and their repulsors slowed them into hovers in a small clearing in the forest.  At the signal from the rebel guides Danaé and her companions turned off their bikes and disembarked.

Danaé hopped off her speeder bike and began to untie the ropes binding the cargo strapped behind the seat.  "So, how did I do?"

Artoo swiveled his dome a bit and trilled.  "Thanks," she replied.  "I thought so too."

Strapped horizontally to the bike, the astromech's visual lens scanned the dense canopy of limbs and leaves high above them.  The droid blooped in annoyance.  "Calm down," Danaé said.  "Give me a second here, will you?"

Artoo blatted once, but stayed quiet after that.  It didn't take long for Danaé to finish untying him, and when she did she quickly lowered him smoothly to the ground.  "There.  Better now?"

The droid blooped and whistled appreciatively.  "You're welcome."

Danaé heard the whirring of Threepio's servomotors right before the protocol droid's airy voice.  She chuckled to herself – Leia sure hadn't wasted any time in unloading her passenger and sending him on his way. 

"Mistress Danaé," the golden droid said fretfully, "I must object to our method of transportation.  I think it is exceedingly dangerous."

"It's all right, Threepio," she replied with a quiet laugh.  "We won't be riding these again."

Threepio almost seemed startled by the news.  "We won't?  Oh!  How wonderful!"

Artoo toodled a question.  "That's right," Danaé said.  "We're walking the rest of the way.  The speeder bikes would be too easy to pick up on scanners."

The astromech blooped his agreement, then another question. 

Danaé looked down at the droid.  "Nothing," she said.  "I'm fine."

"I must agree with Artoo, Mistress Danaé," said Threepio a little reluctantly.  "You do seem a bit out of sorts.  Is something bothering you?  Is there anything I can do to assist you?"

Danaé sighed.  "This isn't something you can solve, I'm afraid."

Artoo whistled and trilled helpfully.  "No, Artoo," she laughed.  "You can't fix it either."

"What is it, Mistress Danaé?"  Apparently Threepio wasn't going to give up easily.  "Surely there must be something we can do to help?  Artoo is particularly inventive when it comes to –"

"Thank you both, really," Danaé said, cutting him off.  "It has to do with the mission itself.  Threepio, how many Jedi Knights were called for in the mission plan?"

"Why, three," Threepio replied immediately.  "Master Luke, Mistress Mara, and you."

"And how many did we bring from Coruscant?"

"Two," the protocol droid said.  "You and Master Luke."

"And how many do we have now?"

"One," Threepio said.  Very briefly the golden droid paused.  "Oh.  Oh dear.  Yes, I see.  Oh my."

Artoo toodled and whistled a somber agreement.  "That's right," Danaé said.  "It's just me – to carry out a mission designed for three Jedi Knights.  It's a bit disconcerting."

Artoo trilled and blooped encouragingly.  "I know," she said.  "You're probably right."

"For once I believe Artoo is correct, Mistress Danaé," added Threepio with haste.  "You are quite skilled indeed.  I'm sure you will have little difficulty fulfilling your duties."

"Thank you, Threepio," she replied with a smile.  "Let's hope so."

Danaé suddenly had a devious idea.  "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what, Mistress Danaé?" asked Threepio. 

"I think I heard Leia calling for you.  She must need your assistance with something."

"Oh my," Threepio said.  "Well, if you won't be needing me any further, I'll go help Mistress Leia."

"I'm all set," Danaé said, suppressing her grin.  "Thank you."

"Come along, Artoo," Threepio declared, already heading off toward the other side of the clearing where an oblivious Leia was talking to Han and Chewie.  "Let's see what Mistress Leia needs from us."

The astromech started to roll off after his counterpart, then stopped for a brief moment.  Artoo swiveled his dome around to face Danaé and spun it quickly back and forth, as if shaking his head to chastise her.  After that he swiveled his dome to face front again, and trundled away to catch up to Threepio.

Danaé laughed.  Artoo was probably right – that was a cruel thing to do to Leia.  Then again, her sister probably had done the same thing when she had sent Threepio over to Danaé in the first place.  Now they were even.

Glancing quickly around the clearing, Danaé spotted Bryon and Sarré unloading some gear from the backs of their speeder bikes.  Quickly she strode toward them.  If Leia came after her, she could always hide behind Bryon.

---

Will Graff stood at the base of the boarding ramp to the lander vessel, a sleek heavily armored starship designed for rapid atmospheric descent, swift evasive maneuvering, and quick unloading of the dozens of Army soldiers strapped into their seats within.  The hyperspace jump to Vyhrrag was in progress, and shortly after arrival the landers would deploy from this gigantic docking bay in the _Invictus_ to begin the invasion of Argis' capital.  With Bryon leading the mission to destroy the generator facility for the planet's energy shield, his two most trusted subordinates were in charge of leading the conquest and ensuring the enemy's speedy surrender. 

Will turned at the sound of the approaching footsteps from the adjacent lander.  "You ready?"

"As ready as we'll ever be."  Cerule Starblaze had the characteristic cocky Corellian grin on her face.  "You?"

Will nodded.  Like Cerule, he was decked out in the full black body armor of the Republic Army Special Forces and armed to the teeth with blasters, concussion grenades, a few thermal detonators, and a collection of other weaponry.  "We should get the word any second now," he said.  "Don't you think?"

"Probably."

Just then the sound of someone jogging up to them intruded through the noise of the dozens of lander engines in the docking bay.  Will looked over to see Kessa Brittin arrive to join them. 

"We've got a go," Bryon's aide told them.  She was staying behind on the _Invictus_ to serve as their coordinator of surveillance, intelligence, and battle plan execution from above, so she wore her simple gray sergeant's uniform.  "You can go ahead and get onboard now, if you want."

"Excellent," Will said.  "We're ready."

Cerule tipped her head in agreement with him.  "How's the intel look?"

"Our spy ships in the system say the planetary shield is still up," Kessa replied.  "But we expected that."

Will nodded too.  "Anything to suggest they're on to us?"

"No," Kessa said.  "No indications of that at all."

"Good," Cerule said gruffly.  "For once I'd like to be the one who does the surprising."

Will chuckled.  "Me too." 

Kessa saluted them.  "Fight bravely."

They saluted back, and watched her jog away.  Simultaneously he and Cerule pulled their helmets from the crooks of their left arms, clamped them down over their heads, and snapped on their chinstraps.  "Okay, then," Will said.  "Let's get this over with, huh?"

Cerule grinned.  "Definitely.  We have a war to win."

Will saluted her crisply, and she saluted back with equal precision.  They spun away and hurried off toward their respective landers.  Just as he was about to burst up the boarding ramp of his ship, Will turned back and called out to her.  "Hey, Starblaze!"

"What?"

"Don't get yourself killed down there, all right?"

She winked at him.  "And let you live to have the glory for yourself?  Not a chance, Graff!" 

Will laughed as Cerule slapped down the smooth rounded black face shield of her helmet and ran up the ramp into her lander.  He slapped down his face shield too and hustled up his ramp. 

"Right," he muttered to himself.  He'd lost enough of his friends to this war already.  He wasn't going to lose Bryon or Cerule today.  He just wasn't.  "Not a chance."

---****

The camouflaged soldiers moved through the Vyhrragian forest at a brisk pace.  With the rebel guides in the lead the Republic strike team headed straight toward the planetary shield generator.  Bryon stayed on alert and kept his blaster rifle ready in his hands while he continued the conversation with his companions.

Winter gave him a skeptical frown.  "You're sure we can trust them?"

He nodded.  "Leia says we can, and I trust Leia."

"Besides," Danaé said from his side, "they've had plenty of opportunities to turn on us or sell us out.  You'd think they'd have done it by now if they're going to bother."

"See?"  Bryon grinned down at Winter.  "Nothing to worry about."

The intelligence officer sighed in bemusement.  "I suppose you've made crazier decisions than this before."

"Don't you know it," he laughed. 

"Still, I wish your brother hadn't left.  I'd be much less nervous with two Jedi Knights."  Winter glanced quickly at Danaé.  "No offense."

Danaé tipped her head.  "None taken.  I'd be less nervous too."

"Will you two quit your fretting?"  Bryon shook his head.  "Like I said, there's nothing to worry about."

"I suppose not," Winter said.  "Still, you had me wondering for a while there, you know.  I wasn't sure you were going to get here in time."

Danaé elbowed Bryon in the side.  "Believe me, I wasn't sure either."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," he said, glowering at his sister. 

"Any time."

"Look, we have to forget all that," Bryon said.  "We can't afford the distractions.  The only thing that matters is that we're here now and we're ready to attack."

Winter nodded.  "And we're still on schedule."

"Exactly," he said.  "And with the Colonel and his rebels on our side, we should be able to overpower the defenses at the generator that much faster."

"Right," Winter said.  "Have we checked in with the other three squads?"

"No," Bryon replied.  "It's still too risky to break com silence.  But the Colonel's scouts think they're on pace too."

"That's good.  How long are you planning to maintain silence?"

"As long as we can.  If we don't hit any opposition before the generator, I'll wait until we're there."

Danaé frowned.  "Isn't that cutting it a little close?"

Bryon shrugged.  "Maybe.  But we have almost forty in our group now.  That's enough to begin the attack even if it takes the other squads a few minutes to get to us."

"True," his sister said.  "That makes sense."

"Amazingly," Winter agreed with a grin, "it actually does."

---

Sarré was so used to keeping pace with Bryon's long strides that she and Chewie kept getting well ahead of the others as the team made its way through the forest.  With a little smile to herself she tugged on Chewie's arm to get his attention and the two of them slowed down until the rest caught up again.  Then she tried her best to match Solo's gait instead of the Wookiee's.

Han looked over at her.  "Got sick of your husband, huh?"

She laughed.  "No.  He's just in genius strategist mode now.  It's boring.  Not like a briefing or something."

Han raised his eyebrows.  "Really?  Give me strategy over briefings any day."

"I suppose," Sarré said.  "But the thing about Bryon's briefings is –"

"Trust me, Han," Leia interrupted, putting a hand on Sarré's arm and shooting Han a quick warning glance.  "Let it drop.  You don't want to get her started on briefings."

Han flashed a lopsided grin.  "Whatever you say, Princess."

Leia smiled at Sarré.  "Spare us.  Please."

"Oh, all right."  Sarré sighed in mock disappointment.  "If you insist."

Leia winked.  "I do."

Han chuckled.  "Don't worry.  I'm sure you'll be less bored when the fighting starts."

"True enough," Sarré said.  "Besides, I figure it wouldn't hurt to actually do my job for a while.  I am a handmaiden, remember."

Lando glanced over and grinned.  "With all these soldiers around, I don't think the Senator needs a bodyguard."

Sarré knew exactly what he meant, and grinned back.  "Oh, really?  As I recall the last time I left Leia with you guys things didn't work out so well."

"Hey!"  Han clearly didn't appreciate the humor at his expense.  "That _wasn't_ my fault!"

Sarré rolled her eyes.  "Of course not."

"It wasn't," Han insisted.  "And this time Luke's not here to mess things up."

Leia laughed.  "Nice, Han.  Nice.  Blame him when he's not here to defend himself."

Han shrugged.  "His choice."

Lando patted Sarré on the shoulder.  "Don't worry.  Chewie and I'll keep an eye on Han.  That'll help."

"Thanks," she said.  "I appreciate that."

Han glared at them, but before he could say anything Chewie wrapped an arm around Leia's shoulders and wroofed a sincere pledge while they all kept walking.

Sarré looked at Leia.  "Well?"

"He says he'll protect me with his life."

Sarré gazed up curiously at the Wookiee.  Chewie grinned at her, then tugged Leia even closer and wrawled another explanation – one that caused Lando to burst out laughing and Han and Leia to blush fiercely. 

Sarré raised her eyebrows and waited.

"It seems," Leia said, her face still a bright red as she squirmed out of Chewie's embrace, "that the life debt isn't just for Han.  It… well… it also extends to his… mate."

Sarré smirked.  "In that case, I'm not needed here after all."

Han muttered something under his breath about last time and trust and so-called friends. 

Sarré chuckled and reached out to put a hand on Chewie's big arm.  "Thank you," she said.  "Your commitment is quite an honor."

The Wookiee nodded. 

"I should warn you, though," Sarré added.  "If you thought watching out for Han was tough, you haven't seen anything yet."

Leia glared at her.  "I'm not that bad!"

"Oh yes, Leia," Sarré shot back.  "I think you are."

Chewie ruffled Sarré's hair and barked an amused affirmation. 

When Sarré glanced over, Leia still was glaring.  "Right.  Here's a lesson for you – don't mock your translator."

Lando leaned in from Sarré's other side.  "He said he's sure you're right.  Any woman Han would take as a mate would have to be even crazier than him."

Sarré laughed and looked up at Chewie.  "You have no idea," she said, shaking her head.  "You have no idea."

---

Padmé sat at the head of the formal dining room table in the Skywalker residence and did her best to keep her attention focused on the matters at hand.  Anakin's unlimited love had soothed her raw grief in a way only he could, but the dull ache of Jenny's absence remained. 

"We've cancelled all your obligations for today," Sabé was saying at her right elbow.  "There's no need to go into the office."

Padmé furrowed her brow.  "You're sure?"

"We're sure," Dormé insisted from her left.  "We've gone through everything that needs your action."

Padmé nodded weakly.  Dormé had been working closely with Jenny in recent months, and Padmé knew the organization and efficiency of the Supreme Chancellor's staff would continue without a hitch.  It was reassuring to realize that just as the Republic could transition smoothly between new leaders, so too her own administration could endure without the Chief of Staff who had been its vibrant center. 

Padmé wondered whether the Republic would miss her anywhere near as much as she missed Jenny. 

"Very well," she said.  "I'll spend the day with Anakin and Nyklas, as long as you promise to contact me if anything arises that I'd want to know about."

"Agreed," Sabé said.

Padmé narrowed her eyes at her oldest and dearest friend.  "That I'd want to know about.  Not that you think I need to know about.  Got it?"

"Got it," Sabé said, nodding decisively.  "Plus, Dormé will keep me in line."

"It's true," Dormé added with a little grin.  "She won't get away with anything."

"Excellent."  Padmé glanced at Rabé and Saché further down the table.  "Do we have the update on Victory Strike?"

"We do," Rabé said.  "Admiral Ackbar reports that all the flotillas assembled without difficulty.  The first stage of hyperspace jumps has been completed.  The six combined strike forces will be jumping for the next rendezvous points within the hour."

Padmé nodded.  "Do we have any idea if the fleet movements have been detected?"

"Ackbar is confident secrecy has been maintained," Rabé said.  "And the Intelligence Department has seen no evidence that the Vyhrragians are reacting to any new information."

"Good," Padmé said.  "And what about Bryon's team?"

"They were inserted successfully," Saché replied.  "Well within the operational window on the timeline."

"Nothing more?"

"Not directly, no," Saché said.  "The plan called for complete communications silence to minimize the possibility of detection."

"I remember," Padmé said.  "What about indirectly?"

"The limited surveillance Intelligence could risk showed no deployment of troops toward the area of the landing, the path to the generator, or the generator itself.  This suggests the enemy is unaware of the infiltration."

"I suppose it does.  What about the report of an explosion at the royal palace?  Do we know if they're attributing it to us?"

Saché frowned.  "It's still too early to tell, unfortunately.  All we know is that it happened.  We don't know what the damage was, or who was targeted.  It's safe to assume the Vyhrragians will believe we were behind it, but we've carried out any number of covert attacks on them over the last few years."

"So there would be no particular reason to interpret it as a sign of an imminent invasion," Padmé said, finishing the reasoning aloud.  "I agree."

Sabé cleared her throat.  "I take it the palace explosion is one of those subjects you want to know about?"

Padmé laughed.  "I knew there was a reason I liked you."

"If there's nothing else," Dormé said into the lull in the conversation, "we should get back to the office and begin taking care of these matters."

When the others all nodded in agreement, Padmé stood up.  "Then we're finished for now.  Thank you.  Thank you for everything."

Her friends gave her lingering hugs and gentle reassurances before they departed, leaving Padmé all alone in the residence.  She strode deliberately to their bedroom and went straight to her enormous walk-in closet.  Quickly she found the plain white flight suit she wanted and put it on. 

She was sliding her blaster pistol into its holster on her hip when Anakin's voice rang down the corridor. 

"Angel?"

"I'm in here," she called out, even though he'd probably sensed her location by now anyway.

He paced through the open doorway with Nyklas cradled in his arms.  "I take it they convinced you to stay home today?"

"They did."  She reached down for Nyklas' favorite mode of transportation – a green carrier backpack.  She slung the straps diagonally across her chest and turned around.  "And I need a way to stay calm today.  Sitting around and waiting for word on Victory Strike will drive me mad.  So I thought we could go for a fly."

Anakin finished tucking Nyklas into the carrier on her back.  "That sounds like a good idea to me."

Behind her shoulder Nyklas gurgled and cooed. 

Padmé smiled.  "I think he agrees."

"I think so too."  Anakin reached out for the single plait that held back her long hair and gently drew it around to drape down her chest.  "Are you ready?"

"I am."

Anakin offered her his arm.  "Shall we?"

Padmé took it.  "Yes.  Let's go."

---****

Mara charged forward and attacked Argis again, her violet blade slicing back and forth and in and out with the incomparable precision and strength of Vaapad.  Her opponent was very strong in the Force – she could sense the energy surging and crackling around them in the throne room as they fought – but it was apparent he was no saber master.  If he hoped to save himself Argis soon would have to draw on his no doubt deep well of dark talents.  In anticipation Mara abandoned conscious thought and placed all her trust in the Force.

Her enemy did not disappoint.  As he retreated backward across the room under her vicious barrage of strikes, the Sith Lord's telekinetic powers snatched up several blaster rifles from among the corpses of the fallen brownshirts and flung them at her.

Mara blocked the flying rifles with a mere thought, swatting them away with a telekinetic swipe of her own.

Argis tried again – and again the debris spun away before it ever got close to her.

Then she noticed that he seemed to be retreating deliberately toward the wall behind him.  Still pounding her lightsaber into his scarlet laser sword, she quickly scanned the smooth surface.  At first she didn't see anything – but then she saw it.  A small keypad. 

Mara unleashed an even faster, more violent onslaught of blows against her enemy until he had no choice but to spin away to avoid bisection. 

In that instant Mara released her grip with her right hand, extended it in the air, and called a blaster rifle into her palm.  The Force pulsed through the muscles of her arm with each rapid beat of her heart, allowing her to take aim with the heavy, two-handed weapon as easily as a holdout pistol.  Mara squeezed the trigger and watched the nearly invisible keypad explode in a shower of sparks and white-hot shards of metal.  For an instant a portion of the wall – a concealed door – began to rise, then slammed closed again.

And all the lights high above on the ceiling of the throne room sparked and flickered out, plunging the giant chamber into darkness.

Mara tossed the blaster rifle aside and spun to face Argis.  The dim glow of the two laser swords and the faint light from the stars and moon outside the tall, wide windows behind the throne was the only illumination for the rest of their fight. 

"I hope you weren't planning to escape that way," she said. 

"Oh, no," he replied, his voice deadly calm and as cold as ice.  "I am simply taking a fuller measure of my opponent."

"I see.  And what's your conclusion so far?"

"Truthfully, I am impressed, young Jedi.  Your reputation precedes you, and you have not disappointed."

"I'll be sure to pass along that testimonial to the Jedi Council.  Now shut up and let's get this over with."

Argis took another long stride backward.  "So impatient, young Jade.  I said I was impressed, that much is true.  But this is far from over.  You are powerful – but I am not afraid."

Mara sneered.  "You should be."

She rushed him with her thrumming purple blade ready to strike – and dove into a headfirst roll along the floor at the last possible second.  Where her torso had been a moment earlier a dense invisible ball of concentrated Force power the size of her head shot through the air like a projectile from an oversized slugthrower.  Had it hit her, it would have shattered her ribs and smashed her insides into gelatin.

Mara tumbled smoothly for another meter and sprang to her feet to see that Argis already was upon her, his scarlet energy blade on the offensive.  Relying on the Force to guide her hands, she parried away the strikes and set her feet for a counterattack.

She got in only a single good thrust before Argis redoubled his attacks in the Force.  First he began to fling debris telekinetically at her – blaster rifles, helmets, small chairs and datapads from the conference table along the far wall, potted plants, and more.  Her intense combat concentration allowed her to repel them all before they could reach her, but at the expense of total focus on her lightsaber. 

That small shift in attention was enough to give Argis time to make things worse.

To the whirlwind of objects swirling toward her the Sith Lord added a series of additional Force spheres designed to pulverize her body.  Mara lunged and ducked and tumbled to avoid them, all the while keeping her violet laser sword in position to block the increasingly fast strikes from her enemy's scarlet blade.

It was too much at once – and Mara felt herself being pummeled as pieces of the flying debris began to slip past her defenses.  A blunt hunk of metal smashed her shoulder.  Another smacked her thigh.  A sharp corner of something drove into her back and sent a spike of pain shooting up her spine.  A heavy ceramic mug from the table blew to pieces against her left temple, and she felt a few trickles of blood begin to drip down her cheek.

Mara narrowed her eyes and propelled herself toward Argis with all the strength in her legs.  She plunged her mind even more deeply into Vaapad and fought with more desperation than she ever had before.

The primal ferocity of her renewed barrage sent Argis stumbling backward as he parried the blows.  His red blade darted with amazing accuracy to defend him, but that apparently took enough of his attention to stop the attacks with the pulverizing Force spheres. 

But there was no letup in the whirlwind of painful objects whipping at Mara with ever-greater speed, and too many of them were hitting her.

Quickly Mara brushed her left cheek on her shoulder to wipe off the tickling trails of blood, then turned toward her enemy again – just as another hunk of metal slammed into her leg.

The pain exploded in Mara's mind with the fiery heat of raw agony – and raw anger. 

"Stop," she cried, projecting her blazing fury outward in a wave of mental power.  "Enough!"

All around her the swirling debris flew away, riding a circular shockwave in the Force with her at its center.  In an instant the vortex of objects was gone, and she was left facing off with Argis again in the gloomy darkness of the throne room.  The only sounds were their breathing and the whirring of their lightsabers.

"Impressive yet again," Argis said.  "Your anger is powerful indeed."

Mara took a long, slow breath.  _I know what I'm doing,_ she told herself.  _I've got this under control._

"Imagine what you could achieve," Argis continued without waiting for her reply, "if you truly learned to harness your anger, to focus your pain and unleash your hatred upon your enemies."

"Oh, right," she said.  "The dark side.  Pretty remarkable powers you've got there, Your Highness."

"Deride me all you like, young Jade," the Sith Lord said regretfully, "but you are the one who is bloodied and battered, not I.  Ask yourself who is really the more powerful here."

Mara brushed more blood off her cheek on her shoulder – and attacked.  The energy blades collided three quick times with showers of sparks and crackling screeches. 

"You've got some neat tricks, I'll give you that," she said.  "But considering I'm still very much alive I have to say I'm less than overwhelmed by your proclamations of invincibility."

"Even so," Argis said with a wicked grin, "surely you must admit you have a great deal yet to learn about the Force."

Their lightsabers exchanged blows again – high, low, right, left – and then hung poised in the air.

"Of course," Mara said.  "Becoming a Jedi Knight is merely the beginning of mastery of the Force."

The Sith Lord laughed.  "You don't really believe those foolish mantras, do you?  Shackled by their rules you will never discover the true nature of the Force."

_Don't listen to him_, she warned herself.  _He's trying to trick you._

Argis flicked out his palm and blasted another volley of crackling blue Force lightning at her – and once again Mara absorbed the deadly energy with her shimmering violet blade. 

Only when the last sparks of electricity vanished did Mara realize her enemy had changed their position in the room so that his back was to the throne and she faced toward the expansive windows and the sparkling constellations in the nighttime sky beyond. 

With perfect regal elegance the Sith Lord walked backward up the low steps of the dais and stood next to the armrest of the throne.  He tapped along its surface and Mara heard the soft whirring of a servomotor.  Argis reached his hand into the opened chamber in the armrest and withdrew a tall glass. 

Nonchalantly he took a long drink of water. 

In the middle of their duel. 

The sheer arrogance of it was stunning.  The utter confidence was breathtaking.  The complete lack of respect it showed for her skills was infuriating.  Argis was absolutely and totally convinced he was going to beat her.  She could see on his face there wasn't a doubt in his mind.  He truly and unequivocally believed the Sith were going to prevail – and soon.  Very soon.

A pang of desperation rocked Mara's gut.  Somehow – from some tremor in the Force she couldn't even begin to explain – she knew beyond all doubt that the time to fulfill the prophecy of the Chosen One was now.  Right now.  Killing Argis would end the war, but there was so much more at stake than that.  He was the last of the Sith apprentices.  She didn't know how she knew that, but she did.  And if her Master defeated the Sith Master…  It would mean the Sith could never be revived again.  Ever.

Mara understood with perfect clarity that somewhere out there in the galaxy Anakin's moment of triumph was about to occur – and that her victory here in Argis' throne room would seal it.

"The true nature of the Force, you say?" asked Mara with a grim chuckle.  "You'll have to do better than you have so far if you're planning to convince me."

"This is no laughing matter, my dear," Argis chastised as he returned the glass to its hidden chamber in the throne.  "We can teach you powers beyond your wildest imagination."

"See, the thing is," Mara said, walking straight to the base of the dais, "I've been a learner or an apprentice all my life.  Just got out of that gig, you know?  No interest in going back to it, really.  Sorry."

"I can feel your anger, young Jedi," he said, staring hard into her eyes.  "So much resentment.  So much pain.  So much… yes… loneliness."

The Sith Lord's final word stabbed her right through the heart – and Mara simply reacted.  A roar of rage exploded from her throat as she sprang up the steps of the dais in a single bound and attacked him with all the power she could muster.  Her violet blade slashed and sliced in a blinding blur, hammering on Argis' scarlet blade until he stumbled and fell to his knees. 

Mara spun her wrists and wrenched the weapon from his hands, and the red blade retracted as the silver handle flew off into the dark shadows of the throne room.

From his knees the defenseless Sith Lord looked up at her.  "Strike me down with all your hatred," he said in a seductive whisper, "and your journey toward the dark side will be complete." 

Mara glared into his eyes.  "Too bad you'll never get to know if you're right."

Argis smiled – and Mara killed him.

---

Admiral Mirkalla watched calmly as the bright streaks of lightspeed blurred, then abruptly resolved into thousands of stars against the black backdrop of realspace.  Out the wide bridge viewport of the _Invictus_ he saw the angled bow of his destroyer pointed directly at a large blue-and-green sphere – Vyhrrag.  Far in the distance was the small orange ball that was the system's sun.  Arrayed around the planet were a sizable number of warships, more than enough to defeat the _Invictus_ if she were alone. 

But she was not alone. 

A series of flashes lit the panoramic scene beyond the viewport.  Mirkalla kept count in his head and smiled when the last ships of the Republic invasion fleet arrived in place. 

It was time. 

The communications line was set to broadcast on the bridge, and the familiar deep, gravely voice of Admiral Ackbar boomed.  "Prepare to initiate Operation Victory Strike.  Admiral Piett?"

"_Gannis__ Trellem_, standing by," came the immediate reply. 

"Admiral Pellaeon?"

"_Bail Millius_, standing by."

"Admiral Cracken?"

"_Orn__ Free Taa_, standing by."

"General Bel Iblis?"

"_Corellia's__ Pride_, standing by."

Ackbar paused for just a moment.  "Admiral Mirkalla?" 

"_Invictus_, standing by," he replied, directing his raised voice toward the communications station in the crew pit below him.

"Launch the fighters," Ackbar said.  "Commence the attack."

Mirkalla waved his hand in confirmation, and the bridge crew of his flagship sprang into action. 

"Twenty minute countdown starting… now," Ackbar ordered.  "May the Force be with you."

"And also with you," Mirkalla said under his breath.

Mirkalla crossed his arms over his chest and watched the swarms of X-Wings zoom out from beneath his ship and head straight toward the enemy vessels already moving to defend the planet.  More Republic squadrons charged ahead from the other five strike forces, and the destroyers and smaller capital ships began slowly to move into firing position.  With a deep breath Mirkalla prepared for the vicious clash to come. 

He spun on his heel and strode quickly to the battle assessment table on the bridge, where a complete holographic display of the two fleets and the planet filled his vision with bright colors.  The planet's energy shield remained in place, but he had every confidence that General Skywalker would fix that problem shortly.  Mirkalla watched as the warships and starfighters engaged. 

"And so it begins."

---

From the group's hiding place behind the fallen trunk of a massive tree Leia looked out into the clearing in the forest.  The shield generator building was surprisingly small – a short, squat structure barely two stories tall and not more than a few dozen meters across.  For a distance of twenty or thirty meters around the building the towering trees had been cleared away, giving the attackers no cover for their final approach.  On the other hand, for the first time in hours they could see the sky.  Leia looked up quickly at the stars, and she saw only the blackness of night and the constellations.  No cannon blasts.  No explosions.  No visible signs of battle in space. 

That was good.  That was very good. 

"There aren't many guards on patrol outside the building," Danaé said into the silence.  "Four on this side."

Bryon nodded.  "How many total?"

"Ten."

"Good," Bryon said.  "Sergeant, call in the three perimeter squads.  We're ready for them to join us."

There was a short pause.  "We can't, sir," a young man's voice finally said.

"What?"

"We can't, sir," the young man repeated.  "We can't raise them on the com."

Artoo whistled and trilled frantically.  "Master Bryon," Threepio said, "it seems Artoo has detected a complex pattern of jamming signals being projected by the facility."

"_Not_ good," Bryon muttered.  "How long until Artoo can work around it?"

The astromech bleeped and blooped.  "At least fifteen minutes, I'm afraid," Threepio said. 

"We don't have that kind of time," Bryon said.  "Colonel!"

The rebel's commander jogged over to them.  "What's going on?"

"They're jamming us," Bryon said.  "I need you to send three of your fastest men to get my other squads."

The Colonel nodded decisively.  "Consider it done."

"We attack without them," Bryon told him even as he saluted and jogged away.  "We can't afford to wait."

Sarré looked over at Bryon.  "How could they be jamming us if they don't know we're coming?"

"Maybe they're jamming constantly," Danaé suggested.  "For security."

Sarré sighed deeply.  "Or maybe we've been betrayed by our 'friends' here."

That thought startled Leia to her core.  "No," she said.  "It couldn't be."

"We weren't betrayed," Bryon said.  "They knew we were coming."

Leia frowned.  "How?  If the plan wasn't leaked and we weren't betrayed…"

Bryon cast a knowing glance at Danaé.  "The one way we can't plan around, no matter what we do."

"The Sith."  Leia swallowed hard.  "But if they foresaw this, why aren't there more guards waiting for us?"

"Simple," Bryon said.  "It's a trap."


	14. Chapter Twelve

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

Bryon took a deep breath and looked down at Winter.  "There can't be reinforcements in the forest – our scouts or the rebels would have seen them.  And the facility is too small to be holding the kinds of numbers they'd need."

Winter nodded.  "Airlift.  It's the only way."

"I agree.  And the only place to land…"

"… is the clearing."  Winter nodded again.  "All right.  What can we do?"

"Let's set up a crossfire.  We'll have the rebels shooting from the forest – that's their advantage.  I'll get your demo team into the facility, then hold it from outside until it blows."

"Do you have enough troopers to do that?"

Bryon blew out a hissing breath.  "No.  We have to hope the Colonel gets the other squads here in time."

"He will," Winter said.  "No time to waste.  Let's do this."

While Bryon confirmed that the rebel and Special Forces officers understood the plan, Winter walked the short distance back to Sarré and the others, who had been monitoring the clearing.  The intelligence agent had finished filling them in by the time he joined them. 

He glanced over to his sister.  "Danaé?  Still four guards on this side?"

"Yes," she replied, her eyes closed in concentration.

"Good."  Bryon flipped up the nightvision scope on his blaster rifle and snapped the weapon into firing position on his shoulder.  "Tell me where.  Slowly."

One by one Danaé described the enemy soldiers' locations, and Bryon easily found each of them through the scope.  Deliberately he tracked out the locations one last time.  Within two seconds four shots took them down.

"Go," he barked.  "Go!  Go!  Go!" 

Bryon charged out from the forest and into the wide clearing at a dead run.  Several of his troopers spread out to eliminate the remaining guards outside the generator building.  The rest of the group ran straight toward the small alcove midway along the wall that concealed the rear door of the building.  They reached it without opposition and huddled up while one of the Special Forces soldiers sliced the lock codes. 

"I need all my troopers out here," Bryon said.  "Even the demolitions guys.  It's our best chance."

"Can't argue with that," Han said.  "Don't sweat it.  We can handle blowing this place up on our own."

Chewie wroofed his agreement.  "Sure thing," Lando added.  "It doesn't have to be pretty, right?"

"No," Bryon said.  "Although it would be nice if you didn't blow yourselves up in the process."

"Maybe I'll stay out here with you," Leia said to him with a grin. 

"Don't worry about it, Your Highness," Han said.  "They're on timers.  All we have to do is run fast."

Winter laughed.  "Exactly.  I'll get us to the generators, and we'll blow them.  What else?"

Bryon took a deep breath to slow his racing heartbeat.  "We need to cut the jamming."

"I'll handle that," Danaé said.  "Where do I go?"

After a moment to think it through Winter replied, "The auxiliary control room.  That has to be it.  They couldn't divert functions in the main control room, and no other room has the capacity to run something that sophisticated."

"Makes sense," Bryon said.  Just then the blast doors hissed and squealed – and slid wide open.  "Go!  Quickly!"

"Come on," Winter said to Danaé.  "Let's get inside first, then I'll tell you how to get there." 

Danaé nodded and followed Winter into the narrow corridor of the shield generator building.  Han and Leia went next, then the droids.  After Lando and Chewie finished strapping on the backpacks with the demolitions gear, they rushed inside to catch up.  As soon as everyone was in Bryon gave the signal to his slicer and the blast doors slammed closed again.

"Defensive formations," he told the troopers near him, certain they would know to spread the orders down the line the old fashioned way until the comlink jamming stopped.  "We're holding the building.  Use the corners, the alcoves, any cover we have.  Get into position!  Now!" 

Bryon took another deep breath – and in the dark stillness of nighttime in the forest he could hear clearly the roar of repulsordrives.  Incoming enemy troop transports.  It was a trap, all right.  And now it was sprung. 

He felt a hand on his arm, and looked down to find Sarré waiting patiently at his side.  "Yes, my love?"

She smiled.  "What about me, General?"

He brushed the backs of his fingers along her cheek.  "Don't get shot, follow orders, and aim at the brownshirts." 

---

Anakin stepped into the foyer of the Skywalker residence and headed toward the main door.  "You're sure we have everything we need?"

Padmé looked up at him and smiled.  "Yes, Ani.  It's all in the carrier."

He glanced at the many overstuffed pockets of the green backpack she wore, and decided they had been quite thorough in packing toys from the nursery after all.  Their broadly grinning grandson was struggling to wrap his tiny fingers around the single thick plait that held back her long hair, and seemed entirely preoccupied by the strenuous endeavor.  For once. 

"I suppose you're right," Anakin said.  "And it'll only be an hour or two anyway."

"Exactly."

His speeder was waiting for them on the main outdoor landing platform a few stories below, and there was no reason to wait.  He was just about to reach out for the keypad by the door when Nyklas began to cry.  The suddenness of the infant's change in mood startled him, so he turned back.  "What's wrong?"

Padmé furrowed her brow.  "I don't know."

Anakin quickly scanned the floor.  "We didn't drop anything."

"No."

"He slept a lot, according to Barriss.  He's not tired."

"You think he's hungry?  Or thirsty, maybe?  He just ate."

Anakin shrugged.  "He's his father's son."

Padmé laughed, and nodded knowingly.  "Back to the kitchen, then?"

"So it would seem."

After four attempts to feed Nyklas resulted in four bottles flung aside, Anakin gave up.  He called the abused bottle from the floor with the Force and passed it to Padmé.  She ruffled the thin strands of dark hair on Nyklas' head, then offered the bottle to him over her shoulder.  Almost reluctantly their grandson seized one end in both hands and began to consume the warm liquid. 

Anakin glowered.  "Showoff."

She smiled innocently and batted her eyelashes at him. 

"Did you have anywhere in particular you wanted to –"  Anakin cut himself off to snatch the falling bottle from midair. 

A moment later Nyklas began to cry again.  Harder this time, and louder. 

Padmé's eyes flashed with worry.  "What now?"

The whimpers already had grown into full-blown shrieking. 

Anakin shook his head, and set the bottle down on the counter.  "I have no idea."

"You want to hold him?"

"No," he replied.  "It's fine."

Anakin reached out a hand and rested it gently on Nyklas' small back.  He closed his eyes and pressed outward with his perceptions in the Force, probing his grandson's body and presence as methodically as he could. 

After a few moments Padmé's voice intruded into his thoughts.  "Is he in pain?"

"No."

"You're sure?"

"Yes."  Anakin reached out his other hand and took Padmé's.  "Nothing physical."

"What, then?"

Anakin surged his feelings around his grandson and sought the elusive answer.  All the while the piercing shrieks continued.  "Something in the Force," he said finally.  "A disturbance of some kind."

"Do you sense anything?"

"No."

"If something happened to Bryon or Sarré you would sense it."

It wasn't a question.  His eyes still closed, Anakin nodded.  "I would."

"Ani…"  Padmé's voice was trembling.  "What's going on?"

He squeezed her hand reassuringly and concentrated even more fiercely.  He couldn't tell what was wrong.  Nyklas wasn't in pain, or uncomfortable, or even bored.  It didn't make any sense.

Anakin hesitated for a moment.  Only in the gravest of circumstances did he ever use the Force to intrude directly into someone's mind to read their thoughts, and he was especially reluctant when it was a member of his family.  He'd done it on a few occasions over the years, in emergencies of one kind or another.  It had been at least a decade since the last time.  And yet something told him he had to do it now.  Right now.

He squeezed Padmé's hand again and propelled his awareness inside Nyklas' mind.  The frenetic, rambling chaos of the infant boy's thoughts nearly overwhelmed him.  Nevertheless, Anakin found his answer loud and clear. 

Nyklas was afraid. 

With another burst of effort Anakin drew his focus around Nyklas' wild emotions and compelled a bit of clarity to come to them.  Abruptly his grandson stopped crying, and Anakin felt in the Force what Nyklas did.  To Nyklas there was no dark and no light – only the Force.

Sometimes the innocence of a child could perceive what a venerated Jedi Master could not. 

Anakin's eyes flew open.  "She's here."

Padmé's eyes were wide too.  "Who?"

"The Sith Master," he said.  "She's here."

---

Luke moved swiftly through the corridors of Argis' royal palace.  The lights flickered continually and in many places were out completely.  He kept to the shadows and doorways, and used bursts of Force-powered speed to pass through the areas where he was most likely to be seen.  He wasn't sure where exactly he was going in the palace, but the Force was guiding him to Mara like a homing beacon.  So he simply headed there as quickly as he could.

He had left the borrowed rebel speeder bike in a grove of trees near the palace.  He had left the camouflage fatigues there too.  Luke didn't know why, but he knew it was important that he be dressed as a Jedi – in his familiar indigo robes – when he found Mara again.

Another burst of speed brought Luke into a new corridor.  At its far end he saw two thick gilded doors blown inward on their hinges.  The room beyond was dark, but the distinctive look of the doors convinced him this was Argis' throne room.  And if Mara was hunting down the enemy king…

Luke broke into a run.  The second before he passed through the open doors his danger sense spiked sharply, and instinctively he ignited the turquoise laser sword in his right hand.

When he got inside the room he had to blink several times to adjust to the darkness in the large chamber.  Opposite him the tall, wide windows on the far wall revealed the stunning panorama of stars in the nighttime sky.  In his awareness he could sense the bodies of the brownshirts Mara had killed.  Debris strewn by a terrible duel with the Force was scattered throughout the throne room, and all around him he felt the lingering manifestations of the swirling eddies and boiling currents of the fight. 

Luke's eyes were drawn to the throne dais, and what he saw there made his heart sink. 

Argis was on his knees with Mara standing over him.  The king was unarmed, and Mara's violet lightsaber was held ready in her hand.  Argis said something, and Mara said something back.

The next instant she struck him down. 

"Mara, no!" 

Luke rushed forward, not fully realizing he had been the one to shout those words.  He only made it a few strides, though, before he stopped in his tracks.  Abruptly, like the flick of a switch, his ability to perceive Mara in the Force had vanished.  The sensation that had drawn him unerringly to her was gone.

In its place was a void.  An emptiness in his heart.  Nothing.

Above him on the slightly elevated dais Mara still had her back to him.  She stood there for a long moment, gazing down at the body of her slain opponent. 

In that pause Luke's subconscious mind asserted itself, and compelled him to consider something he had sensed but not consciously perceived.  When Argis had died, there had been a great flood of power into the Force.  It was undeniable, once Luke realized it.  And there was only one explanation – Argis himself had been a Sith Lord.

The revelation startled Luke, but not as much as the sight of Mara turning around to face him.

In the dark throne room the light of their two blades was nearly the only illumination, but he could see clearly enough to be afraid.  Mara wore not her dark-hued Jedi robes, but a black flight suit.  She still held her violet laser sword ignited in her right hand.  Her red-gold hair flared out wildly around her head in a fiery corona.  And her green eyes flickered with a chilling anger. 

He was very afraid.

Luke staggered backward a step.  "Mara?"

She didn't say a word as she stalked down the dais to the floor.  Suddenly she extended her left arm and in a flash a silver lightsaber handle spun end over end into her palm.  Mara ignited the scarlet blade – the Sith blade – and advanced on Luke with both weapons thrumming in the air at her sides. 

The angry glare in her eyes made her even more menacing, and he shivered.

"Mara?"

She continued to stalk toward him, and didn't reply. 

Luke took a deep breath and tried to slow his frantic heartbeat.  "Mara, what's going on?"

She stopped a few paces in front of him and raised her blades into attack position. 

He waited for a long, agonizing moment.  "Mara, please –"

"What are you doing here?" 

He shivered again.  Her voice was almost unrecognizable.  It was low and cold as ice.  A growl, not her usual melodic cadence.  It was the most frightening thing he had ever heard – so frightening he didn't know what to say to her.  For the first time in his life he had no idea how she would react. 

"_Answer me!_"

---****

Luke took a slow, deep breath.  "I'm here to… help you."

"To _help_ me?"

"Yes."

Mara waved the tip of the scarlet blade toward the corpses littering the dark throne room, and glanced back over her shoulder at Argis' dead body.  "Does it look like I need help to you?"

"No."

"I didn't think so."

He frowned.  "It seems you've become quite an efficient killer."

Mara chuckled.  "Just what I figured.  You're not here to help me.  You're here to _stop_ me."

"Yes."

"From killing Argis to end this war?  From killing a Sith Lord to end the threat they pose?  You're here to _stop_ me?  Really?"

"You know it's not only your actions that matter, Mara.  It's how.  And why."

"Right."  The two thrumming blades slid into attack position again.  "So tell me, did the Jedi Council send you here to retrieve their wayward Knight?"

"No."

She snorted.  "Your father, then?  Sent you out to save his poor, misguided apprentice?"

"No, not that either, Mara.  I came here on my own."  Luke paused, staring hard into her haunted green eyes.  Even though she was shrouded in darkness, he knew the Force would tell her he spoke the truth. 

She narrowed her eyes at him, then nodded once.  "So this is your own little mercy mission, is that it?  You're here to save me from myself?"

"I'm here to stop you from falling to the dark side."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

Luke felt trickles of sweat running down his skin beneath his robes.  "Don't do this, Mara.  Don't let your anger and hate consume you."

She shook her head in disgust.  "You don't know anything about the dark side.  You don't know anything about power.  You don't know anything!"

"I know one thing.  I know your destiny is to be a great Jedi.  Not to live a life filled with darkness and pain."

"Cute.  I guess you're a prophet now?"

"No.  I only know that your destiny is tied inextricably to mine."

"And what, exactly, do you mean by that?"

"Mara…"  He swallowed hard.  "I love you."

She laughed – a low, disturbing laugh, cold and unnerving like her voice.  "You _love_ me?"

"Yes."

She laughed again.  "You've had a year to say that.  A year!  And you wait until you're afraid I'm going to _kill_ you before you say it?"

"It's not like that," he insisted.  "Let me expl–"

"You _are_ afraid of me," she interrupted.  "Don't deny it."

"You're right."  Luke's danger sense was screaming in alarm.  "I'm afraid of who you are right now."

"You'd say anything to save yourself, wouldn't you?"

"No.  I wouldn't."

"Liar!"

"No, Mara."  Luke took another deep breath.  "It's not a lie.  I love you."

Her reply was simple – she swung the first strike. 

---

When Winter raised her hand to halt their small group, Han stopped and readied his blaster rifle.  Ahead of them the dim corridor reached a dead end with a brightly lit hallway.  He expected to see a squad of brownshirts come around the corner to attack them any second, but instead Winter spun around. 

"This is where you go left," she said to Danaé.  "We go right." 

Danaé nodded, and with a burst of Jedi speed she was gone.

Winter turned to the rest of them.  "After about ten meters there's another corridor, and we take that left.  It's a perfect ambush spot.  We need to make sure it's clear."

"We'll do that," Leia said, pointing her thumb at Han and marching forward. 

Han looked at Winter and shook his head.  "Politicians," he muttered to her.  "Always gotta be in charge."

Leia glanced back over her shoulder.  "What's that?"

"Nothing."

"Right."

"Come on, Goldenrod," Han said.  "You're with us."

"But Captain Solo, sir, I really must point out…"

"You too, Artoo," Leia added, ignoring the protocol droid completely. 

"… that there is very little I can contribute to this task," Threepio continued anxiously.  "I'm fluent in over six million forms of communication, but I don't see how –"

"I'm delighted for you, professor," Han interrupted, "but I only need one to tell you to keep quiet.  Now quiet!"

The protocol droid made a startled jolt, then followed along silently.

In a few more long strides Han reached the end of the hallway.  Together he and Leia peered around the corner into the bright corridor.  It was empty.  They clutched their blaster rifles to their chests, slunk out with their backs pressed to the wall, and advanced slowly toward the next hallway ten meters ahead. 

"Come on, Artoo," Leia whispered.  With a soft bleep and bloop the astromech trundled around the corner to join them, with Threepio right behind.  Fortunately there still were no enemy soldiers to be seen, so after several more paces they readied their rifles and stepped away from the wall. 

Han kept his eyes peeled for brownshirts.  "You know, this camouflage isn't so helpful in here, really."

Leia glanced down at her brown-and-green fatigues, then at the white walls.  "Good point."

"Little late to change now."

"Yes, I suppose it is."

A few more careful strides brought them to the intersection.  Han motioned Leia and the droids to wait, then approached the corner of the wall.  He crouched down to a knee and quickly stuck his head out to see how bad it was.  Amazingly, though, the next hallway was empty too. 

Han turned back and called out to Winter, Lando, and Chewie.  "We're clear.  Let's move it!"

---

Bryon looked above the towering treetops on the far side of the clearing, and still could see only the black nighttime sky speckled with stars.  The drone of the repulsordrives was growing louder by the second, though. 

He glanced down to the trooper at his side.  "Can the scanners tell how many?"

"No, sir," the young man replied.  "The jamming is interfering with them too."

"Figures," Bryon said.  He didn't like the way this was shaping up.  Not one bit.

Sarré tapped him on the arm.  "Here they come!"

He followed her pointed finger to the bright headlamps of the enemy transports bearing down on them from over the trees.  Ten dots.  Pairs, set close together.  Double sets of lamps.  Five sets.  Five transports.  With at least sixty brownshirts each…

"Oh, this is not good," he said.  "Not good at all."

Sarré was unnaturally calm.  "How bad?"

"Five to one," he told her over the roar of the transports, which had reached the clearing and were dropping into landing patterns.  "Maybe worse."

"You've beaten that before.  Lots of times."

"Yes.  With Special Forces.  And right now I'm missing three squads of them."

She reached out and squeezed his arm reassuringly.  "They'll be here."

"We'd better hope so.  I'm not sure the rebels can hold out in a straight standoff like this."

Sarré grinned crookedly at him.  "Surely, General, there must be _some_ way you can even things out a little?"

Even in the deep gloom he could see the devious sparkle in her lavender eyes – and it gave him just the flash of insight he needed.  Bryon couldn't help but grin too.  "I love you," he said.  "I really, really love you."

While she looked at him quizzically he reached down to his belt, unclipped a thermal detonator, and clicked the timer.  By now the transports were nearly on the ground – two of the large ships twenty meters in front of them, the remaining three out of view along other sides of the generator building.  Bryon set his feet, leaned back hard, and threw the detonator with all his strength straight toward the transport on the right.

"Everybody, duck!" he shouted through the thunderous rumble of the ships.  "Duck!  Now!"

Bryon wrapped his arms around Sarré, pulled her to his chest, and spun them both to face the wall.  Only three heartbeats later a deafening explosion ripped the air and a blinding flash of light cast their shadows on the building.  A wave of heat blasted past them, whipping at his fatigues and rattling his ribs.  Then, just as suddenly, it was over. 

He let Sarré go and spun around.  Where the transport had been only a smoking, burning pile of tangled wreckage remained.  He wouldn't have time to use his other detonator, though – brownshirts already were pouring from the transport on the left and charging toward the building.  But there were only half as many as there would've been. 

"Whatever it was I said, you're welcome."  Sarré grinned at him again.  "I never knew I had it in me."

Bryon snatched up his blaster rifle and grinned back.  "Try not to let it go to your head, all right?  You've got enough confidence as it is."

---

"Where is she?"  Padmé barely could hear herself speak.  "How close?"

"I can't tell," Anakin said.  He began to lead her out of the kitchen by the hand. 

"Where are we going?"

Anakin stopped in his tracks in the corridor, and released her hand.  "I… I don't know."

"Your speeder?"

"Too far.  We'd never make it."

Padmé reached her left hand up to her shoulder, and Nyklas's tiny fingers clasped hers.  "The turbolifts?"

"Too risky.  Too exposed."

Padmé's other hand snatched her comlink from her belt.  "I can send the panic alert.  They can get us from the terrace."

"Good idea." 

She pressed the button.  Again.  And again.  And again.  "It's not working."

"Blast!"  Then Anakin sighed.  "They probably wouldn't have made it here in time anyway."

Padmé's heart sank.  "We have to do something!  Quickly!"

"I know," he replied distractedly.  For a long moment he said nothing.

"Ani?"

"Come on," he said, suddenly grabbing her hand again and leading her down the corridor.  "I've got it!"

"What?"

"The docking bay.  Mara's X-Wing is there."

Padmé nearly stumbled she was running so fast.  "We'll all fit?"

He looked back over his shoulder with a crooked grin on his face.  "If Mara and Luke can fit, we can fit."

Padmé felt her face flushing.  "I don't think I wanted to know that."

"Sorry," he said unapologetically.  "My mistake."

They charged into the small private turbolift that led to the residence's secured docking bay.  Anakin slapped at the control panel, the door slid closed, and immediately they began to descend.  Anakin reached out and grasped her by both shoulders.

"Be calm, angel," he said.  "We'll make it."

"Ani…"

"We'll make it." 

Nyklas gurgled something, almost as if he was agreeing with his grandfather.

Padmé nodded.  "Right."

The turbolift slowed, then pulled to stop.  The door slid open again and Anakin charged toward the control station along the wall to open the huge hangar doors.  Padmé ran after him into the wide docking bay.  It looked strange to see it so empty.  The _Lady Vader_ was gone.  The speeder was docked outside.  Luke's and Danaé's X-Wings were back at the Temple for repairs.  Only Mara's maroon-and-white X-Wing rested on its landing gear halfway across the spacious chamber. 

Padmé stopped in her tracks when she heard the loud thump resonate from the open turbolift a few meters behind her.  She spun around on her heel – and heard the distinctive sound of a lightsaber slicing through metal. 

She tried to scream, but couldn't. 

A round disc fell straight downward from the roof of the turbolift car and clattered to the durasteel floor with a piercing clang. 

She tried to scream again.  This time her voice worked. 

"_Anakin!_"

---****

Padmé hardly had drawn her breath after her frantic shout when Anakin was at her side.  With a snap-hiss his turquoise lightsaber ignited in his hand, and he took another stride forward to stand between her and the open portal to the small turbolift.

From over her shoulder Nyklas whimpered once, then rested his tiny hands on the sides of Padmé's neck. 

Padmé stared at the turbolift and waited for the inevitable.  She could hear the thrumming of the other laser sword echoing into the empty car from the tube above.  Her hand settled on her blaster, and she flicked off the safety.

With graceful ease a lithe female form dropped to the floor of the turbolift car.  Just as Anakin had described her, the Sith Master had long, straight black hair and brown eyes that sparkled with a deadly fire.  She wore a simple black flight suit and carried her scarlet blade ready in her right hand.

For a long, terrible moment no one said a word. 

The Sith Master gave Padmé a mocking bow.  "Supreme Chancellor Amidala."

Padmé flinched.  The contralto voice was filled with an indescribable malice she would never forget.

"Jedi Master Skywalker."  The Sith Master grinned.  "We meet again."

"We do," Anakin replied, his voice low and even.  "But I don't think we've been properly introduced, Darth…"

"Vengous."

Anakin nodded once. 

"I must admit," Vengous said coolly, "that your actions of late have been a disappointment.  It's not like you, Skywalker, to sit idly by while so many suffer and die."

"You turned your back on the Jedi's ways long ago," Anakin retorted.  "I have no desire to explain my reasons to you now."

Vengous tipped her head.  "They would not make you any less a coward, regardless."

Padmé drew her blaster and gripped it in both hands.  Vengous met her gaze, and grinned. 

"It is my destiny to defeat you," Anakin said.  "I chose not to seek out you and your apprentices.  I had no doubt _you_ would come to _me_."

"And come to you I have," Vengous said.  "But do not take too much pride in your prescience, Skywalker.  In this, as in all matters, everything is proceeding as _I_ have foreseen."

"Intriguing," Anakin replied with equal confidence.  "For I have long foreseen your death at my hands."

Padmé's breath caught in her throat at the memory of the terrible nightmare she and Anakin had shared a year earlier.  Before Gimna 3.  Before she was Chancellor.  It felt like a lifetime ago. 

"It seems the time has come," Vengous said flatly, "to learn whose foresight is the better."

"You won't win," Padmé exclaimed before she even realized she was speaking.  "You'll never beat Anakin!"

Vengous laughed, and the fiery hatred in her voice grew even darker.  "Oh, no, my dear.  It is I who will prevail.  Soon you will both be dead, and I will have my final victory."

_Both._  Padmé's heart skipped a beat and a horrible void of terror formed in her gut.  If the Sith wanted her and Anakin dead…

No.  Vengous wasn't getting Nyklas.  No matter what it took, Padmé wouldn't let that happen. 

Padmé raised her blaster and fired again and again. 

Vengous snapped up her left hand and splayed out her fingers.  With soft hisses the laser bolts dissipated into thin air as they reached her palm. 

Padmé stopped firing, but kept her blaster aimed.

"This moment has been a millennium in the making, Skywalker," Vengous said.  "Only one of us will walk away alive."

Anakin took his lightsaber in both hands.  "It won't be you."

---

Admiral Mirkalla glanced away from the multicolored holographic images projected above the battle assessment table on the bridge of the _Invictus_ and looked out the wide viewport at the real sight of the massive skirmish raging above the cloud-draped, blue-green world of Vyhrrag.  The numerous capital ships of the large Republic invasion fleet and the much smaller enemy defensive force were exchanging constant salvos of cannon fire.  All around the battlefield swarms of Vyhrragian TIE fighters fought countless dogfights with the squadrons of X-Wings, Y-Wings, and A-Wings deployed by the Republic.  The battle was a brilliant panorama of laser blasts, engine trails, and fiery explosions.  Were it not such a deadly display, it might have been a mesmerizing work of art.

A sharp young voice drew him back to reality.  "Admiral, we have a problem."

Mirkalla turned to face Sergeant Brittin at one of the side consoles along the wall of the bridge.  "Of what kind?"

"On the ground, sir," she replied.  "At the shield generator."

A few long strides brought him to her side.  "Show me."

Brittin tapped a button, and holographic image appeared.  "This is the shield generator," she said, pointing to a blue target indicator.  "This is the problem."

His stomach dropped when he watched five red dots appear from nowhere and fly directly toward the generator.  The dots reached their destination in no time, where they suddenly stopped.  Mirkalla took a deep breath to calm himself.  "What are they?"

"Troop transports," she told him.  "Our sensors could pick up that much."

"Where did they come from?"

"I'm not sure.  Best we can tell, there was a hangar hidden among the hills about twenty kilometers away from the generator.  The transports launched from there – right _before_ we arrived."

"A secret hangar and perfect foresight."  Mirkalla blew out a sigh.  "This is the worst-case scenario."

"Yes," Brittin said, frowning.  "It sure looks like it." 

Mirkalla turned to the communications officers in the crew pit.  "Broadcast an immediate notice to the fleet.  Mission parameter Bravo Six.  Repeat, Bravo Six."

"Yes, sir," the young men and women below him said in unison, and at once they began to bark announcements and orders into their headsets.

"Be sure," Mirkalla added with haste, "that you inform the Rogues and Renegades first."

One of the officers glanced up and saluted a silent acknowledgement.

Mirkalla faced Brittin again.  "There's nothing we can do until that shield is down."

"I'm afraid not, sir."

"I just hope General Skywalker's luck hasn't run out."

Brittin looked up at him and smiled.  "He doesn't believe in luck, sir."

Mirkalla couldn't help but smile back.  "I'm not sure whether that terrifies or reassures me, Sergeant."

---

Bryon used the wall of the alcove as cover and took aim around the corner at the charging brownshirts.  The flames of the destroyed transport and the headlamps of the other provided a bit of illumination to the clearing – just enough to count the enemy soldiers. 

Nearly sixty, just as he'd expected. 

All of them heading his way.

"Not quite yet," he whispered to Sarré, who was crouched down at his hip with her blaster aimed outward too.

"Right," she said.

Bryon let the brownshirts get a little bit closer, then squeezed his trigger.  The first shot took down one enemy soldier.  The second another.  The third yet another.  Sarré began to fire too, and so did the two Special Forces troops on their side of the generator building.

A cheer rose from the charging brownshirts.  Sixty against four…

The cheer was echoed by a soaring war cry from the forest – and by a devastating barrage of blaster fire from behind the trees and underbrush at the edge of the clearing.

The victorious shouts of the brownshirts broke off in an instant, and were replaced by a series of barked orders that sent the enemy soldiers scrambling to confront the unexpected opponents behind them.  Most of the brownshirts headed toward the forest, but a good two dozen kept coming toward the building.

The gloomy clearing lit up with the green blaster bolts from the forest and the building and the red bolts from the brownshirts.  The rebel shooters managed to take down a good number of brownshirts in the ambush, but it wasn't long at all before the enemy soldiers made themselves much more difficult targets by firing from crouches or prone or from behind the cover of the transport or the wreckage.

In a matter of seconds the ambush had resolved into a standoff.  That wouldn't win Bryon the fight, but at least it kept most of the brownshirts away from the building for now.  He had to take what he could get.

Shielded by the corner of the alcove he kept up a steady stream of blaster fire at the oncoming enemy soldiers.  Only sixteen left now. 

"Watch our backs," he told Sarré quickly.  "I'm too busy with the rest."

"I will," she said between shots of her own. 

"Thanks." 

"So…"

Out in the clearing a brownshirt rose from the ground to advance further toward the building.  Three of Bryon's blaster bolts hit him dead center in the chest and dropped him.  Fifteen.  "You were saying?"

"So, if you've got another one of those absurdly crazy plans of yours that you've been waiting to try," Sarré said, "now would pretty much be the time."

"Sure," Bryon said, firing again.  Fourteen.  "I'll get right on that."

---

Luke's turquoise lightsaber darted out to parry aside the scarlet laser sword.  He took a step back and shifted his blade to block the succeeding blow by Mara's violet lightsaber – but that attack never came. 

"Let me get this straight," she said.  "You were afraid I'd fall to the dark side, so you came to save me."

"Yes."

Mara chuckled.  "You must think quite highly of yourself."

Luke shook his head.  "No.  It's not like that."

"What is it like, then?  Enlighten me."

"Mara…  I know how tempting the dark side is, and why.  I know how it offers a quick and easy path away from pain, and despair, and weakness.  How it makes you believe you're invincible.  I know why my father gave into it.  I've felt it myself.  And… you were the one who stopped me."

She narrowed her eyes.  "On Tatooine."

"That's right."

"So you're here to repay a debt."

He nodded once.  "I suppose you could look at it that way, yes."

"You don't owe me anything."  Mara took a long stride closer to him.  "I don't want your help."

"You do.  I know you do."

The violet blade slashed forward, and Luke blocked it.  The strength of the blow surprised him, and he gripped his weapon in two hands as the laser swords screeched apart. 

"No," Mara said.  "I don't."

"I know you love me, Mara," he replied.  "Don't give in.  Don't let the darkness take over."

"I did love you," she said, her voice suddenly even deeper and fiercer.  "But I don't want your love any more."

Luke felt a terrible void building in his gut.  "That's not true."

"It _is_ true," she barked, and she swung both her energy blades straight toward him. 

Luke parried the red blade and lunged away from the purple one.  "No, Mara," he said.  "It's not true.  I know you love me.  You'll never convince me otherwise."

Another strike from the violet lightsaber arced toward his throat, but he snapped his blade around and blocked it. 

"You had your chances," she spat.  "More than I ever should've given you.  And you squandered them."

"Mara, I –"

"No!  You've hurt me for the last time.  It's over."

Luke swallowed hard.  "I've made mistakes, Mara.  A lot of them."

"How brave of you to admit that.  Maybe the Council will give you a medal."

"I shouldn't have hurt you, Mara.  There are a million things I shouldn't have done.  I'm sorry for all of them."

"It's too late for apologies," she snarled, and attacked him again. 

This time Luke had to parry with all his skill to ward off the violet and scarlet blades.  "I know you're angry," he told her.  "I know you're hurt.  But I know you, Mara.  You're a Jedi.  It's never too late to make things right."

She laughed again, just as chillingly as before.  "You assume too much.  Far too much."

Luke hadn't noticed until now how hot he was, how the sweat was dampening his robes and pouring down his face.  And yet he shivered.  "What do you mean?"

"Maybe I don't want to be a Jedi any more.  Maybe I don't want to be the person you want me to be any more.  Maybe I've had enough of you, and your father, and the Jedi.  Maybe I'm done with you – forever."

"You don't mean that."

"It isn't up to you to decide what I mean," she said.  "It's my decision.  It's my choice.  Now get out of here!  I never want to see you again!  Understand?"

"No, Mara," he said.  "I won't leave you."

She sighed in disgust – and charged him.


	15. Chapter Thirteen

CHAPTER THIRTEEN 

The shimmering blur of violet and scarlet assaulted Luke with the fury of a midsummer hurricane in the oceans of Naboo.  His turquoise blade flashed frantically back and forth in front of him to keep the onslaught at bay, and even with the Force as his ally his defenses barely held.

One brief glance into Mara's eyes revealed that she had given herself over to Vaapad.

Luke swung with all his strength to smash away both of her lightsabers at the same time.  He pressed out with the Force and sprang into a high twisting back flip that brought him down again a few meters away from her.  He set his feet and readied his blade, and hoped for a reprieve.

"Please, Mara," he said.  "Stop this.  Let go of your anger.  You don't want to leave everything you love behind.  I don't believe that you do."

She slid her pair of blades into an attack position again, but she stayed where she was.  "How dare you tell me what I want, after what you've done to me?"

"I never meant to hurt you."

"Sure.  You can say it all you want, and it still won't be true.  You're a liar.  A liar and a thief."

"A thief?"

"A thief."

Luke's danger sense spiked again.  "What did I take from you, Mara?  Tell me.  Please."

She looked away, and shook her head.  "You took everything."

"I don't understand."

"Of course you don't!"  She looked back at him, and her green eyes were blazing with a fiery hatred he'd never seen before, even in the eyes of the Sith he'd fought.  "It just proves you don't really know me.  You don't really love me.  If you did, you'd understand."

At her words the hollowness that had been building in his gut rocked his spirit to its core.  "I love you and you love me.  Everything of yours I have, I have because you gave it to me willingly, because of our love.  _That_ is the truth."

Her lips curled into a grim scowl.  "My heart.  My body.  My soul.  I gave it all to you.  And what did I get in return?  Your body.  Your heart – or at least enough of it to keep you from betraying me."

"Yes," he interjected to be sure she knew the truth.  "No one but you.  Only you since Tatooine.  I promise."

For an instant something inscrutable flickered across her face.  "But you never gave me your soul," she continued.  "Not really.  You never gave yourself completely as I did.  You had no right to accept my soul, if you couldn't give yours in return.  You're a thief."

Luke nodded.  "You're right.  Until now I never surrendered my soul to you.  You're right about that.  But I'm here now, Mara.  That's why I'm here, don't you see?  I'm here to fix what I've done wrong."

"It's not enough," she said.  "It's too late to fix this."

"No," he said.  "It's never too late."

"Yes, it is," Mara spat.  "That's the other thing you stole from me.  The other thing you don't understand."

Luke knew she was about to attack him again, but he held his ground.  "You're right."

"You can say you're here to fix this, to make things right.  But I can't trust you.  I can't believe in you.  You stole my trust and my faith.  I can't believe in you.  I can't believe in anyone but myself, ever again."

"Mara, I –"

"No!"  She strode forward until their blades were only centimeters from colliding.  "When Anakin… When he gave himself over to the darkness, I was there.  I was at his side.  I watched him abandon everything he'd ever taught me, everything he'd ever said, all his vows and promises to Padmé and to me.  I felt him _choose_ to break all the most sacred bonds in his life, and for what?  For nothing!"

Luke nodded once, and waited.

"If he'd done that to save me, or to get to Bryon, or…  I could have understood that.  It wouldn't have made it right, but I would've understood."  Mara blinked, and single tear traced down her cheek.  "But it was for nothing.  Nothing!  It gained nothing, and cost everything.  He betrayed me.  The one person I should've been able to believe in, no matter what.  Always.  And it was as if I wasn't even there.  He didn't even care what he did to me.  He didn't care how much he hurt me.  He… broke me."

"And then I did too," Luke said.  "When you needed me most of all, I pushed you away."

She laughed.  "I hope someday when you're a Jedi Master your wisdom moves at a faster pace than this."

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't give me back what you stole!  Sorry can't make me trust you.  Sorry can't make me believe in you.  Sorry is worthless.  Worthless!"

"I risked so much to find you, Mara," he said.  "Our mission… I endangered the mission when I left them all behind to save you.  Because you needed me.  Because I can help you.  Because I don't want anything else in the galaxy except to be with you.  Hold onto me, Mara, and I'll never let you go again."

For just a moment she hesitated.  "No.  I don't believe you."

"I'm not lying," he insisted.  "I know you can sense that."

She blew out an infuriated hiss.  "I believe you, but I don't believe _in_ you.  If I trust you now, you'll just betray me later.  You'll just cast me aside like Anakin did, and destroy what's left of me.  I can't let you do that."

"You're wrong.  I'll never hurt you that way."

"It doesn't matter what you think you'll do, or won't do.  I'm better off alone.  I know that now.  I don't need Anakin.  I don't need you.  I don't need anyone but myself.  Now get out.  You're not going to change my mind."

"No, Mara.  You don't have to be alone.  You never have to be alone again.  I'm not afraid any more.  You can believe in me, and we'll never be alone."

"No.  Get out!"

Luke prepared for inevitable.  "I'm not leaving, Mara.  I'm not leaving without you."

And once more she attacked.

---

With quick strides Anakin surged forward to meet the approaching Sith Master.  Their blue and red blades smashed together three times to start the duel.

Vengous took a few steps to her left, and swung another strike.

Anakin parried it with a twist of his wrists, and matched her movement to keep his body between his enemy and Padmé, who stood a few meters behind him.  Through the Force he could sense Padmé trying to find a way to score a blaster hit on Vengous, and he could feel Nyklas' anxiety slowly building as the infant perceived his grandmother's fear.

His enemy slid to her left again, and attacked with an intricate pattern of arcs and slices.

Anakin snapped and rolled his blade to defend the barrage, and once again he matched her positioning.

Vengous swung high, then low, then high again.

He slapped the blows away, then took the offensive.  He slid his turquoise blade around another strike from Vengous' scarlet laser sword and danced his weapon through a vicious Vaapad maneuver. 

The Sith Master met him swing for swing, her red blade carving a mesmerizing swath of color through the air to deflect each attack in turn. 

Anakin took a long stride toward her and unleashed an even more powerful series of blows, building one upon the next to gradually bring her defenses out of position.

But Vengous was worthy of her status as a Master, even a master of evil.  Her face betrayed no concern or doubt as she fended off the entire barrage.

With a swift parry and roll of his wrists Anakin spun away from her counterattack and took the offensive for himself again.  He swung low, then high, then across her body.

Vengous blocked him, and their blades screeched as she pinned the weapons to the side.

Anakin felt Padmé's intention the instant before the ringing retort of blaster fire sounded behind him. 

The blaster bolts whizzed past his shoulder – and missed Vengous, who with a simple twist of her torso had evaded the shots.

Anakin freed his blade and swung for his enemy's leg, but yet another parry thwarted him.  Through the Force he sensed Padmé's dismay at her inability to get a clean shot, and more so her resignation that Vengous would block or avoid the shots regardless.  Padmé slid her blaster into its holster and started plotting.  Anakin couldn't help but smile – she really was a fighter, and it was one of the things he'd always loved most about her.

Suddenly Vengous counterattacked once more, her scarlet lightsaber pounding relentlessly into his parries. 

Anakin let the Force guide his hands, and he kept all the attacks at bay.  It wasn't easy, but he wasn't outmatched either.  At least not yet. 

Vengous continued her ferocious onslaught.  Each strike tested Anakin's defenses and every blow was more aggressive than the last. 

He took a single step backward, set his feet, and looped his wrists into a difficult cross-handed parry.  It gave him the positioning he wanted, and in the next heartbeat Anakin trapped his enemy's lightsaber against his and began to wrench their weapons up and over their heads in a complete arc.  The energy blades screeched and spat sparks as he drove them back down toward the floor. 

The laser swords hissed and whined when they collided with the ferrocrete floor of the docking bay.  Anakin didn't hold the pin, though, but instead rolled his wrists to free his blade and lunged in a spearing blow toward Vengous' undefended chest.

The Sith Master sprang backward into a high twisting flip that brought her down nearly ten meters away.  She set her feet and flicked out her left palm. 

An invisible wave of power surged outward, and instantly the Force told Anakin it was aimed not for him but for Padmé.  He flicked out his left hand in turn and countered the oncoming blast of kinetic energy with an opposite one of his own.  His arm shook from the violence of the collision, and the Force boiled and swirled with the effects of their concentration.  After a long heartbeat the waves of power dissipated, and Anakin lowered his hand. 

Vengous narrowed her eyes, but didn't say a word. 

Anakin's awareness in the Force showed him where Padmé was, and he deliberately took a few strides backward to provide a better shield from the inevitable next attack. 

Vengous narrowed her eyes even further, until they were almost closed.  Still she stood in place without moving, without speaking. 

Anakin felt the Force churning around him like a devastating summer sandstorm sweeping across the deserts of Tatooine.  His enemy's intentions were obscured by the power of the dark side burning within her, but the frenetic currents of the Force left no doubt she was about to attempt something. 

He got his answer when he heard Padmé's yelping gasp behind him.  He looked back over his shoulder to see her clawing at her throat with her bare hands, trying to break an invisible stranglehold.  Her face already was flushed red and her wide eyes were full of fear, pleading for help.

Anakin closed his eyes and pressed outward with the power of the Force.  He wrapped his strength in the light side around Padmé and blasted his focus at her neck.  For a moment a malicious barrier obstructed his path, but a fierce burst of his concentration smashed it to pieces.  Like a flock of birds scattered by a roving predator, the evil might of the dark side released its grasp on Padmé's throat.

He spun around to face Vengous again and saw that the Sith Master had used the opportunity to close half the distance between them.

"Well done, Skywalker," she said.  "You will indeed present as great a challenge as I had anticipated."

Anakin scowled.  "You will underestimate my powers to your detriment, I can assure you of that."

"Oh, no, Skywalker," Vengous replied coolly.  "I will make no such mistake as Sidious did."

"I'm delighted for you."

"No doubt you are."  Vengous took another stride forward.  "Let us see who is the more powerful."

Even before the attack began Anakin snapped out his left hand again and stretched out with the Force.  An instant later crackling blue currents of Force lightning erupted from his enemy's left palm and arced straight toward Padmé and him.  Just as he had during his first confrontation with Vengous on Naboo a year ago, Anakin sharpened his focus and drew all the deadly electricity toward his bare hand.  The dark lightning swirled and hissed in a tight ball just beyond his grasp, and with a flick of his wrist Anakin directed the energy to arc upward to the ceiling of the docking bay high above them, where it dissipated among the metal rafters. 

Vengous grinned at him, and took yet another stride forward.

Anakin knew the Sith Master hadn't expected that attack to work.  She wasn't trying to defeat him – not yet.

No, she was sending him a message.  A message he understood loud and clear.

Vengous was a Sith.  The Master of the Sith.  She had access to dark arts beyond Anakin's worst imaginations.  Not only that, but she would not hesitate to use them to defeat him.  She would use the Force for attack, for aggression, to destroy.  She was the antithesis of a Jedi, and she had no conscience to restrain her.  Her goal was simple, and she would use any and all possible means to attain it. 

Anakin, on the other hand, was a Jedi.  The Chosen One.  A child of prophecy destined to bring balance to the Force.  A Jedi Master.  For over three decades he had been taught, and had taught others in turn, to use the Force for knowledge and defense – for duty.  In the face of the diabolical abilities of the Sith he could respond only by blocking those efforts and striving to slay his enemy without succumbing to the temptation to use the powers Vengous could wield so effectively against him. 

In a contest of power in the Force, a Jedi could not prevail – he could only survive.

And in a contest with blades Anakin was at an impossible disadvantage.  He had no doubt he could triumph in a simple duel with the Sith Master, one on one with no distractions.  But there were distractions – two unforgettable distractions.  Padmé and Nyklas. 

That was the message of his enemy's lackadaisical attacks with the Force so far, and her strides toward him with scarlet blade at the ready.  Anakin could not hope to win this way – not dueling Vengous while protecting his beloved and his grandson from the deadly powers of the Sith.

Unless he moved the pieces on the dejarik board, and fast, he would lose.

He was certain of it.

Anakin retreated rapidly until he felt Padmé reach out her hand and press it to his back. 

"Go to the X-Wing," he ordered without looking back to face her.  "I'll cover you."

"No, Ani," she said sharply.  "I won't leave you!"

"You must," he said. 

Padmé hesitated. 

"Nyklas," he said simply.

Her hand pressed harder into his back.  "I understand."

He glanced quickly over his shoulder and met her gaze.  "Are you ready?"

Padmé nodded once. 

"I will protect you," Anakin said, facing Vengous again.  "Take the X-Wing and go."

Padmé removed her hand from his back, and in the Force he felt her steel her resolve to save their grandson even as her heart broke with anguish at the thought of leaving him behind.  Anakin took a deep breath, and prepared to charge Vengous with Force-powered speed. 

"Run," he told his wife.  "Run!  Now!"

---****

Leia glanced over at Winter.  "Are we almost there?  We don't have much time."

"Don't worry," the white-haired intelligence agent said.  "We'll make it."

Leia frowned.  "I just want this place blown up – and now."

"Stay cool, Princess," Han said, flashing her a lopsided grin.  "I've got it all under control."

No sooner were the words out of his mouth than they turned a corner in the hallway to see three Vyhrragian officers in gray uniforms coming from the other direction. 

The officer in the middle saw them first.  "What the –"

Han's shot cut him off in mid-exclamation, and Winter's shot took down the one on the left.  Leia took aim and fired at the third – but not before he'd reached down to his belt for his comlink and screamed a frantic warning in the planet's native tongue. 

The ringing echoes of their blaster fire faded, and immediately the piercing alarms began to blare.

"Guess they know we're here now," Lando said.

"I knew this easy stuff was too good to last," Han muttered.

"Right," Leia said.  She looked up at Han.  "I thought you said you had this under control?"

He grinned at her again.  "Oh, I still do, sweetheart.  Like I always say – too easy is no fun."

---

Danaé was almost to the auxiliary control room when the alarms went off.  She powered her feet with another burst of the Force and charged ahead.  She rounded the corner of the hallway to see the open portal to the control room only ten meters away – and its large blast door already was lowering rapidly from the ceiling.

With a tremendous headfirst lunge Danaé dove forward and tumbled smoothly beneath the thick metal door in a green-and-brown blur just before it slammed to the floor.  Immediately she sprang to her feet inside the control room and ignited her emerald lightsaber. 

The distinctive snap-hiss of the weapon activating instantly drew the attention of the dozen enemy officers packing the room.  Her startled opponents still had the composure to draw their sidearms and take aim at her, though.  Not that she'd really expected them to just give up, even to a Jedi.

"Surrender," she said in a quiet, unnerving voice.  "You can't win."

"Not a chance," said one of the officers.  Even before he squeezed his trigger the Force told Danaé his intention.

Her thrumming blade hardly moved in her right hand, and the single blaster bolt flew straight back at the shooter and struck him squarely in the chest. 

Danaé took a quick, deep breath to settle her emotions while the body thumped to the floor.  "Surrender.  Now."

Another gray-clad officer raised his pistol – and Danaé flicked her left wrist to yank the weapon from his grasp, then sliced the pistol in two in mid-air. 

"Put down your weapons," she said.  "Please."

This time the officers obeyed, and ten pistols clattered to the floor.  And she hadn't even had to resort to mind compulsion.

"Which station controls the signal jamming?"

One of the officers – the youngest, she thought – stepped forward and pointed.  "This one," he told her. 

Three long strides brought Danaé to the computer station, and she used a single two-handed, overhead cleave to destroy it.  She looked back at the young man.  "And the other?"

The boy gulped.  "What?"

"I can tell when you're lying," she said flatly.  "Which other station?"

"That one," he replied, pointing again. 

"Thank you," she said, and demolished it too.  She turned to the boy again.  "Open the blast door."

He nodded, walked quickly to the wall panel, and tapped in a code.  With a hiss and a squeal the door slid upward. 

Danaé strode to the open doorway, then looked back over her shoulder.  "I suggest you remain here until they come for you," she told the officers.  "If you surrender, your lives will be spared."

She stepped through the open portal into the corridor, and tapped the same code the boy had used into the wall panel on her side of the door.  In a heartbeat it slammed down again, and Danaé plunged her blade into the panel.  When the shower of sparks confirmed the electronics were destroyed she deactivated her lightsaber and ran off down the corridor to find Leia and her friends.

---

Over the sounds of the raging firefight in the clearing Bryon almost didn't hear his comlink beeping.  He snatched it from his belt and held it up to his ear.  Sure enough, the jamming was gone.  He flipped a switch and clipped the device to his fatigues just below his chin. 

"Status report, Beta squad," he said while still shooting at the twelve brownshirts still advancing on Sarré and him.  "Where in the blazes are you?"

"Almost there, General," came the immediate reply.  "Don't worry."

"Don't worry?  You're not the ones getting shot at, Lieutenant."

"Not _yet_, sir."

Bryon laughed.  "Roger, Lieutenant.  Delta squad?"

"Two minutes away, sir," replied the next lieutenant. 

"Gamma squad?"

"Objective reached at mark oh-two-oh, sir," the final lieutenant said, and simultaneously Bryon heard a noticeable increase in blaster fire from the opposite side of the generator building. 

"Defend and reinforce your location, Gamma," he ordered.  "Delta, mark two-eight-oh.  Beta, mark one-nine-oh."

After his subordinates confirmed their instructions, Bryon took a deep breath.  "Status report, Alpha squad."

Eight of his twelve squadmates checked in.  Better than he'd expected.  "Copy, Alpha squad," he said.  "Colonel, can you hear me?"

"Roger, Skywalker," said the rebel leader's voice.  "Holding positions.  That's the best we can do.  I'm sorry."

"Copy, Colonel."  Bryon took another deep breath, and flicked off the comlink.  Eleven brownshirts now. 

Sarré looked up at him.  "Well?"

"Not good."  He fired.  Ten remaining.  He looked down at her and shook his head.  "Not good at all."

---

Will Graff tapped the comlink control button at the base of his helmet.  "Why haven't we deployed yet?"

"In case you've forgotten, I'm not omniscient," Cerule Starblaze hissed. 

"Hey, I'm just asking," he shot back defensively.  "Keep your pants on."

"For you, Graff, always."

Will only shook his head, and tapped the button again.  "What's the delay, Admiral?"

"The shield's still up," Mirkalla's voice said through his earpiece.  "And we're only at sixteen minutes on the countdown right now."

"We should launch anyway," Will said.  "We'll be that much closer to the planet when the shield drops."

"Graff is right," Starblaze added quickly.  "Let's launch."

In his shock at the miracle of her agreement with him Will missed the first part of Mirkalla's response, but he pulled himself together in time to hear Captain Antilles and Captain Fel confirm that the landers' starfighter escort was in position for the descent and Mirkalla give the order. 

"Thank you, Admiral," Will said.  "You won't regret this."

"May the Force be with you, Major Graff," Mirkalla said.  "And with you, Major Starblaze."

Even before they'd double-clicked off the feed in acknowledgement, Will felt the rumbling of the repulsors that meant his lander was lifting off in the destroyer's docking bay.  After a few seconds the inertial compensator kicked in, and he and his troopers sat back for the short trip down to the planet.

His helmet comlink clicked on again.  "Will, it's Wedge.  You sure about this?"

"We are."

"If that shield doesn't go down, you're done for in those landers.  You'll never make it back to the fleet."

"I understand that," Will said.  "Don't worry, our friend is down there.  He'll have that shield down on time."

Starblaze's voice chuckled grimly.  "Or this'll be the shortest offensive of all time."

---

Padmé ran as fast as she could toward the single maroon-and-white X-Wing a few dozen meters away across the docking bay.  Abruptly the wide hangar doors began to creak open slowly, and she knew Anakin must have found a way to activate the controls with the Force.  It had been a long time since she'd flown an X-Wing – since the rescue mission to Xixus a year and a half ago, in fact – but this time would be no test of skill or finesse. 

She just had to get away.

Padmé had covered nearly half the distance to the starfighter when she heard Anakin's sharp shout.

An instant later she felt herself shoved fiercely to the side as if by the push of a powerful pair of invisible hands – and a crackling arc of blue lightning tore through the space where her body had been a split-second earlier. 

She landed hard on her knees and hands, and the extra weight of Nyklas on her back drove her even harder into the ferrocrete floor.  She winced at the stinging pain, but clenched her jaw and sprang to her feet again.

She glanced back to see Anakin and Darth Vengous engaged in a blistering lightsaber duel.  The blue and red blades sliced and arced with blinding speed, and the screeches and clashes of the colliding energy blades echoed throughout the cavernous docking bay around them.  It was as quick and as violent a battle as Padmé had ever seen – faster and more intense than any sparring match with Obi-Wan or Mara.  It was frightening in its ferocity.

Padmé turned around and ran toward the X-Wing again.  She wanted more than anything to help Anakin somehow, to find some way to assist him.  But she had to protect Nyklas – that duty was even more important.  So she ran.

She was close, so very close, when she heard a tremendous roar of ripping and tearing metal.  She looked to the side to see the docking bay's refueling arm break away from the wall and hurtle straight at her. 

Padmé tried to scream, and again her voice froze in her throat.

The massive chunk of metal pipes seemed to fly in slow motion as it bore down her.  A million thoughts raced through Padmé's head at once, and the only one that mattered was that she wouldn't get to say goodbye to Anakin or their children.  She didn't even have time to close her eyes as the refueling arm arrived to take her life.

But it didn't.

Impossibly the twisted mass of metal pipes spun away at the very last possible instant.  The edge of one of the torn pipes smacked violently into her forehead, and she felt the sharp, jagged metal slice along her skin.  Somehow the rest of the refueling arm flew past without touching her.

Padmé's eyes followed the projectile as it spun across the docking bay.  Anakin stood with his left arm extended, yanking the refueling arm toward him with the Force. 

Just as he parried away another strike from Vengous' scarlet blade the heavy debris careened past him and smashed him on the arm.  Anakin stumbled, and immediately a crimson stain began to spread along the sleeve of his tan Jedi robes. 

Anakin would do anything to make sure she and Nyklas got away.

Padmé knew she had to succeed. 

She was just about to run for the X-Wing again when the full effects of the blow to her head filled her mind with a throbbing, overwhelming pain.  Her vision blurred and her head sagged.  Her stomach roiled and her legs wavered.

Padmé took a step forward – and fell to her knees. 

---

Luke ducked beneath the first strikes, violet blade slashing in behind scarlet.  He rolled to the side and sprang to his feet again, and snapped his wrists to bring his turquoise laser sword around to parry the next attack.

Mara reached him in a single bound and swung the red blade high and the other low. 

Somehow he managed to deflect the path of the violet lightsaber enough to keep it from severing his legs at the knees, then whipped his weapon around into a smashing block against the thrumming energy blade headed for his throat.  A long stride backward bought him a second to regroup.

She paused for a moment, readying the pair of weapons in her hands.

Luke knew he had to find some way to pierce the shroud of darkness enveloping her.  He couldn't perceive her intentions or emotions.  He couldn't reach out to her through the Force; behind the mists of hate and anger her presence was elusive and indistinct.  He couldn't overpower her and break her will.  His only hope was to talk to her, reason with her, and rely on his faith that she was not yet too far gone to listen.

Mara lunged forward suddenly and unleashed another onslaught of devastating blows.  Her blades were a brilliant haze of color that struck again and again at him.  Not sparring blows.  Not subduing blows.  Mortal blows. 

The Force alone guided his hands to parry the attacks.  His wrists snapped and rolled and twisted and turned to keep his turquoise lightsaber in just the right place at just the right time to save his life.  Only by millimeters did he evade the barrage. 

Abruptly Mara's blades swung outward and then in again, closing on him from opposite sides like deadly pincers. 

Luke threw himself face-first to the floor.  It was the only way out.

Even as he spun over onto his back Mara towered over him, her scarlet blade slashing out to pin his turquoise weapon to the side and the tip of her violet blade poised at his throat.

Luke felt the drips of sweat running down his face, and swallowed hard.  He had to find someway to reach her.  He wasn't going to win this.  It just wasn't possible.  Only infrequently over the years had he been able to beat her in a sparring duel, and not a single time since his father had taught her Vaapad.  And this was no sparring match.  This was real.  Terrifyingly, truly real.

"I said," Mara hissed, "get out.  This is your last chance."

"You won't kill me," he replied, compelling the calmness into his voice.  "You won't."

"Argis thought the same thing.  Didn't turn out so well for him, did it?"

"I suppose not."

"So," she said in the new haunting, cold voice, "what's it going to be?"

And then, suddenly, he saw it.  She might be blinded by her rage and hatred and he might be her opponent now, but she was still Mara and she still thought of him as Luke.  He knew it was true because he saw the opening – the one that meant she didn't believe he would do whatever it took to save her. 

But he would.  He was going to save Mara or die in the attempt.

"I'm not leaving," he said, and in the same instant he slid his head along the floor away from the violet blade – and kicked up with his right foot with all the strength he had ever used to fight anyone.

Utter disbelief filled Mara's eyes as his boot smashed squarely into the center of her chest and sent her flying across the room. 

---****

Luke was on his feet by the time Mara landed with a resounding thump ten meters away.  He took a moment to collect his thoughts and slow his pounding heartbeat.  He reached out into the Force and drew on its soothing energy to calm himself.  He cleared his mind and lowered his weapon, and waited.

Mara sat up slowly, then rose to her feet.  The two bright energy blades remained ignited in her hands.

"I'm sorry, Mara," he said.  "But you gave me no choice."

She began to stalk toward him again, and her eyes were as dark as a starless night.  "You're going to regret that."

"No, I don't think I will."

"Oh, really?"

Luke nodded.  "I'm not afraid any more, Mara.  Not of you.  Not of us.  Not of anything."

"I'm delighted for you."

"You know I love you.  Since… Xixus, I guess.  When we first felt it.  Since Tatooine, when we finally accepted it.  I thought it was the beginning of the best days of my life, Mara.  I did."

By now she stood only a meter away.  She did not attack, but slowly she began to circle him with both lightsabers held ready to strike. 

Luke kept his blade at his waist and pointed at the floor.  "But then… Look what happened to the people I love, Mara.  Think about it.  Master Obi-Wan gave his life to save me because I was too weak to do what was right.  My father failed.  My mother took on a burden she didn't want, only to find she'd been betrayed just like you.  Leia lost Han.  Danaé killed Oga.  Bryon almost died.  It was too much to handle."

Something flickered across her face again before the fury returned.  "I needed you then," she said.  "I needed you more than I'd ever needed you before.  And you needed me too.  But you pushed me away."

"I did.  It was wrong.  I see that now."

"How wonderful for you.  I don't care."

"But you do, Mara," he said firmly.  "I know you do."

"I don't."

Luke pressed on with what he felt compelled to say.  "When I thought about what happened, I thought it meant the Force had turned against us.  All of us – the Skywalkers.  I thought the Force wasn't with us any more.  We'd all been hurt so much, lost so much.  And I thought… I knew you'd be a Jedi Knight soon.  You'd be free from being my father's apprentice.  And when that happened you wouldn't be a Skywalker any more, and the Force would be with you again."

Mara's eyes narrowed.  "You thought you were _protecting_ me?"

"Yes.  I thought that if I let you love me, I'd be dooming you to a life of misery and suffering."

"And you took it upon yourself to decide that for me."

"Yes, I did.  I was wrong."

Mara snorted.  "I don't need protecting, and certainly not from you."

"I know that now."

"So what's the point of this little confessional of yours?"

"I'm not afraid any more," Luke said, and the conviction in his heart rang out in his voice.  "I'm not afraid of loving you.  I'm not afraid of you loving me.  I'm not afraid of the future."

"Right.  You've mentioned that several times already."

Luke took a step forward, and extended his left hand to her.  "I love you, Mara.  I will always love you.  It's you and only you for the rest of my life.  I will love you no matter what the future brings.  Unconditionally."

At his final word that flicker – was it fear? doubt? hope? love? – crossed her face again, and this time it lasted a moment longer than before.  "No.  It's too late.  It's not enough.  I'm better off alone."

"No, Mara.  That's not true, and you know it."

"It's too late.  Now go.  Please.  Don't make me kill you, Luke."

He smiled.  The wall of hate had been breached.  Now there was a chance.  He knew that if he trusted in the Force, in himself, and in her, he really could win.  "I won't fight you, Mara."

She readied her blades – and this time she hesitated. 

---

Anakin stumbled backward a few more strides, and he barely held his footing as he spun around to face Darth Vengous.  Simultaneously he surged the energy of the Force into his left arm to dull the pain and slow the bleeding from the deep wound slashed by the flying refueling arm.  Across the docking bay the debris smashed to pieces against the wall. 

"An admirable effort, Skywalker," his enemy said with a bemused grin.  "But you cannot hope to prevail."

Anakin unclenched his jaw long enough to speak.  "This isn't over yet."

"Oh, but it is," Vengous replied.  "You have already lost."

"I don't think so," Anakin hissed, and he charged forward again.

A flick of her wrist and a blast in the Force stopped him in his tracks. 

Vengous grinned, more darkly this time.  "Everything that has transpired to bring about our confrontation here has done so according to my design.  Everything that can result from this day of violence and war will lead to my victory in one way or another.  Everything that occurs serves my purpose."

Anakin shook his head.  "You won't fool me with your bravado, Darth."

"Nor me with your faith, Jedi."

Anakin glanced quickly over his shoulder.  Padmé's was on her knees, struggling to stand.  Her pale face was streaked with trails of blood dripping from a long gash on her forehead.  Her plain white flight suit remained unblemished, and in the Force he could sense Nyklas' agitation from where their grandson hung snugly along her back in the green carrier.  Padmé wasn't hurt badly, but he had come a split-second away from watching her die before his eyes.  He couldn't let that happen.  He had to think of something, and quickly.

When he looked back at the Sith Master, Vengous laughed.  "You cannot save your family now, Skywalker.  Each and every one of them is doomed."

Anakin narrowed his eyes and readied his blade, but did not say a word.

Vengous looked at Padmé behind him.  "Your bold attack on Vyhrrag is lost.  I foresaw your futile assault long before you ever ordered it.  Your children on their mission to destroy the shield generator are walking into my trap.  A battalion of my best troops awaits them.  They will be destroyed."

"No," Padmé cried from her knees, still too dazed to stand.  "No!"

"Oh, yes," Vengous said.  "I'm afraid that even if you somehow escape me, you will never see them again.  Within minutes, far from here, the blood of your sons and your daughters will stain the soil of Vyhrrag."

"You would be a fool to underestimate them," Anakin said.  "They are far more resourceful than I."

"Perhaps," Vengous said.  "But I am no fool."

"Your power is waning," Anakin said as calmly as he could.  "I have felt it.  Your defeat is already in motion."

Vengous laughed, a long and chilling chuckle.  "Once again you are mistaken, Skywalker.  For that waning only signals that my victory is at hand."

Anakin shook his head.  "A dubious claim."

"Then allow me to explain," Vengous said.  "You see, your young apprentice has taken it upon herself to hunt down and murder all of my acolytes."

"What?"

"Oh, yes.  I thought you knew."

"You're lying!"

"No, Skywalker," Vengous said flatly.  "I am not.  Young Jade carries a deep anger in her soul.  Begun in response to your actions, it now boils in ire at your imprudent son.  When she accepted that anger, when she no longer fought against it, it opened her to the dark side of the Force.  In her moments of greatest fury I have felt her attain glimpses of my design, and she has used those insights to wipe out my pupils.  All of them."

Anakin felt his legs waver, but a quick deep breath restored his composure.  "So you are the last remaining Sith?  Perhaps you should not be so confident."

"The survival of my Order requires only one.  Even now, young Jade fights a battle to the death against your son.  She will strike him down.  I have foreseen it.  And when she does, she will be forever my servant on the dark side.  She will become my next apprentice, and one day your grandson will be hers in turn.  So you see, Skywalker, the Sith are far from defeated." 

"Unless you fail to vanquish me," Anakin said.  "The ways of the Sith must be passed down from one to the next.  The holocrons are not enough to perpetuate your kind.  If all living Sith die, your Order will be extinct forever."

"So you have indeed studied the ancient prophecies to their fullest," Vengous replied with a tip of her head.  "Yes.  That much is true.  As with the Jedi, so it is with the Sith."

"It would take the powers of someone far stronger than you to annihilate every living Jedi," Anakin said.  "You will never succeed."

"Not in my lifetime, perhaps," Vengous conceded.  "But I need not see that victory for myself.  For the prophecies foretell of your coming and your destiny.  If I defeat you, here and now, then the ultimate triumph of the Sith is inevitable.  Be it one fell swoop or decades is irrelevant.  You – Skywalker, the Chosen One – you are the only one who can stop us.  If you fail, then it is the Jedi, not the Sith, who shall be extinct for eternity."

Anakin stared hard into his enemy's eyes.  "I will not fail."

---

Once again Admiral Mirkalla looked at the running countdown on the battle assessment table.  Thirteen minutes. 

The larger Republic fleet already was beginning to dominate the harried battle in space, but none of that would matter if the shield didn't fall.  The Victory Strike plan depended on a rapid, massive invasion of the enemy capital.  Waiting too long would create too grave a risk.  It would give the Vyhrragians time to bring reinforcements into the system and would leave the invasion fleet vulnerable to failure – if not annihilation. 

"We have another problem, Admiral," came Sergeant Brittin's anxious voice from her position at the side console.  "A second launch from the hidden hangar."

Mirkalla clenched a fist against his chin.  "More troop transports?"

"Yes, sir," she replied.  "Five.  And ten tankships with them.  Headed straight for the generator."

"Five transports and ten tankships?"

"Yes, sir."

Mirkalla glanced over to her sharply.  "If we can't get them help soon, it'll be a massacre down there."

Brittin nodded.  "I know, sir."

---

Bryon blinked away the blurriness in his eyes from the chaotic skirmish in the clearing around the shield generator building.  The darkness and gloom contrasted too sharply with the flames and the bright laser bolts, and his vision was paying the price.  He could see another brownshirt moving toward the building well enough, though, and gunned the enemy down with three squeezes of his trigger. 

Seven more left. 

From her firing crouch below him Sarré fired a few shots too, and killed another brownshirt.

Six.  Closing in fast now, but only six.  Maybe they'd live through this after all.

Suddenly a new barrage of green laser fire erupted from the forest, across from their small alcove along the wall of the building.  Bryon smiled at the sight of a dozen camouflaged Special Forces troopers bursting into the clearing with blaster rifles blazing.  Most of them moved swiftly to engage the groups of brownshirts still trading fire with the rebels in the forest, but three of his troopers broke into a dead run straight toward him.

"Beta squad, reporting for duty, sir," said the welcome voice of the squad's lieutenant over Bryon's comlink. 

Bryon flicked the device clipped at his throat to broadcast.  "Copy, Beta squad.  Deploy and defend."

"Roger, General."

Bryon gunned down another brownshirt.  Five.  "Gamma squad, maintain position.  Delta squad, advance and reinforce Gamma when ready."

He already had flicked his comlink switch again by the time his subordinates confirmed the orders.  He fired his blaster rifle.  Four. 

Bryon glanced out into the clearing and saw that the progress of the three Special Forces troopers headed his way had been halted by a firefight with some brownshirts.  He and Sarré were on their own again.  Not good.

He saw another of the oncoming enemy soldiers.  He reacted instantly, and fired.  The very next second Sarré fired at a pair of brownshirts, and he saw her bolts strike home.  One. 

One left.  But where?  Where?

Bryon's heart raced as he frantically scanned the clearing.  Where was that blasted brownshirt?

His answer came in the form of a blaster bolt striking the wall only a millimeter from his shoulder – and a strangled yelp of agony at his waist. 

Bryon's warrior instincts took precedence, and he wheeled around and shot dead the enemy soldier who had snuck up on their flank.  Zero.

Bryon spun back to the alcove, and a terrible void engulfed his gut – a horrifying emptiness that froze his heart, stole his breath, weakened his knees, and shattered his very soul.

Collapsed in the corner against the walls, head slumped forward lifelessly, was Sarré's limp body.  A single blaster shot was burned through her camouflage fatigues into the center of her chest. 

Bryon didn't even feel the rifle fall from his hands – and didn't hear his own scream – as he staggered toward her.


	16. Chapter Fourteen

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

Bryon fell to his knees and seized his wife's limp body into his arms.  "Sarré!  Sarré!  Stay with me!"

Her eyes fluttered open, then closed again. 

"Don't you dare die on me!  Sarré!  No!  Sarré, please!"

She coughed once, hard, and her entire body shook with a tremendous spasm.  Her head lolled back against his arm.  Then suddenly her eyes snapped open and she looked up at him.  "Bryon?"

"I'm here," he said, trying in vain to quell the panic in his voice.

She blinked, and reached up a hand to her chest.  "Am I…"

He pushed his hand past hers and pressed his fingers through the blaster burn in her fatigues – and sighed in relief.  "The armor held," he told her, choking down his sob.  "The armor held."

Sarré interlinked her fingers with his and confirmed it for herself.  "Oh, Bryon… I…"

"Shh," he said, kissing her forehead.  "It's all right."

"I'm so sorry," she sobbed.  "I'm so sorry."

"Not now," he said.  "We still have –"

"General Skywalker, sir," intruded a sharp male voice behind them.  "Do you need a medic, sir?"

Bryon looked back over his shoulder to see that the three camouflaged Special Forces troopers had reached the alcove.  Two were firing into the gloomy clearing while the third waited for Bryon's reply with a comlink ready in one hand and Bryon's discarded rifle in the other.  "No, Sergeant," Bryon said.  "Thank you."

"You're welcome, sir," the young man said, already snapping his comlink to his belt and leaning Bryon's rifle against the wall of the generator building.  Without waiting for orders the trooper raised his own rifle and joined the other two in firing at the enemy soldiers in the clearing. 

After Sarré scooped up the blaster she'd dropped, Bryon stood up and pulled her to her feet.  He squeezed her to him tightly for a moment, then snatched up his rifle.  "I thought I'd lost you."

"I know.  I'm sorry."  She gave him a little angelic smile.  "I guess I'm not very good at following orders."

"No," he said, unable to stop himself from grinning back.  "But you're very good at giving them."

"When we get out of this, I'll let you give some orders for a change."

Bryon sighed deeply, and brushed his fingers once through her hair.  "We're still badly outnumbered.  There's a very good chance we won't get out of this."

Sarré nodded solemnly.  "I know.  I'm not afraid to die.  Not with you here."

"I'm not afraid either," he said.  "But I don't want to die.  I'm not ready to let anyone else raise our son."

She smiled.  "Neither am I." 

"Then I think we have something worth fighting for."

"We do," she said.  "And I'll try not to get shot again."

"Thanks.  Now I don't need to waste my first order on that."

---

Han glanced over his shoulder to make sure there weren't any brownshirts coming up behind them.  So far, so good.  "You're sure this is the right place?"

"Positive," Winter said.  She pointed at the closed blast door in front of them.  "This is it.  I promise."

With his small interface arm twisting and turning rapidly in the socket of the wall panel, Artoo whistled excitedly.  "It seems," Threepio reported, "that Artoo has nearly completed slicing the –"

Artoo squealed, and the blast door hissed open.

Han snapped his blaster rifle to his shoulder and began shooting the brownshirts and gray-clad officers inside the enormous generator room.  Winter dropped into a firing crouch and opened fire, and at Han's side Leia opened fire too.  After they'd taken out the enemies closest to the open portal, Han advanced deliberately into the left side of the circular room.

Above them two levels of catwalks spanned the perimeter of the room.  The walls were filled with banks of computer terminals and all manner of monitoring and control stations for the generators.  In the center of the floor were nine tall, wide columns arranged in a square.  The transparent tubes glowed and pulsed with the energy they generated to power the planetary shield.  Atop the columns nearly twenty meters high was the massive conical shield projector pointing up and out of the roof. 

Han hurried over to one of the generator columns and used it for cover as he took aim at the brownshirts firing down on them from the catwalks.  Leia followed him, and she fired from the other side of the same column.

When he'd finished off the brownshirts within his range of view, Han stepped out into the open floor again.  On the right side of the room Lando and Chewie were taking out a few more enemies from behind another of the generators.  All the way across the floor Winter had found cover behind a large metal crate and was shooting up at two officers on the highest catwalk. 

Han leveled his rifle at one of Winter's targets and squeezed the trigger.  Just as Winter's shots killed the other, Han's bolt struck home cleanly and sent his victim toppling over the catwalk's low railing with a dying scream. 

The sound of blaster fire faded entirely. 

"All clear here," Han said. 

"All clear here too," Lando said. 

"Situation clear," Winter confirmed.  "Artoo, make sure the blast door is locked so we don't get company."

Han looked over in surprise to see the astromech and the protocol droid standing by the closed blast door.  He hadn't realized it had shut. 

The astromech toodled.  "Artoo confirms the door is locked," Threepio said.

Han jogged over to join the others at the widest generator column in the middle of the square.  The purplish glow of pulsing energy gave everyone's skin a very weird hue.  "All right," he said.  "What've we got?"

"Detonators," Lando replied.  He already was rapidly unloading the backpack he'd carried in, and Chewie was doing the same with the one he'd worn.  "Lots and lots of detonators." 

Han raised his eyebrows.  "Thermal?"

"Some," Winter replied as she sorted out the explosive devices Lando and Chewie were passing her.  "Thermal.  Sonic.  Fragmentation.  Electromagnetic.  Neutron-fission.  A few I don't recognize."

Leia chuckled.  "As long as it explodes, I say we use it."

Han smirked at her.  "All those smarts, sweetheart, and you're just wasting them in the Senate."

Winter shook her head in bemusement.  "All right.  Five piles.  Everybody take one, and let's get this set up."

"Right," Han said, reaching down for the closest pile.  "Let's blow this thing."

---

Admiral Mirkalla stood at the wide viewport on the bridge of the _Invictus_ and considered the space battle still being fought in front of him.  The Vyhrragian defensive force was putting up admirable resistance, but the tide had turned minutes ago and the Republic invasion fleet soon would defeat them completely even if none of the enemy warships surrendered. 

A quick glance toward the edge of the battlefield showed the first wave of Army landers and their X-Wing escorts nearing the invisible line in space where the planetary shield still blocked their conquest.

Mirkalla spun on his heel and checked the running countdown on the battle assessment table.

Six minutes, ten seconds. 

He turned to General Skywalker's aide standing over the side console.  "Sergeant, how much longer until the transports and tankships arrive at the generator?"

Brittin leaned in closer to the holographic display she was monitoring.  "Four minutes."

Mirkalla took a deep breath and strode quickly toward her.  "This is going to be uncomfortably close."

The young sergeant simply smiled at him when he reached her side.  "Yes, sir."

"You don't seem troubled by this."

"When you've served with General Skywalker as long as I have, sir, you become accustomed to it."

"I see."

"Permission to speak freely, sir?"

Mirkalla nodded.  "Of course."

"You either become accustomed to it, sir," Brittin said with a grin, "or you go mad."

Mirkalla laughed.  "Understood, Sergeant.  Most definitely understood."

---

Padmé squeezed her eyes shut tightly and clenched her fists, and fought against the pulsing pain in her head with all the strength she could muster.  She had to find a way to stand, and get to the X-Wing, and fly it out of here.  She had to.  She had no choice.

She opened her eyes and saw that the wide hangar doors were open now.  This was her chance.

Padmé staggered to her feet and swayed in the air.  She took a deep breath and blinked away the stars and streaks that sparkled inside her eyes.  Behind her shoulder Nyklas whimpered, and his tiny hands patted her neck gently.  Padmé smiled at her grandson's attempt to comfort her, and took another step toward the starfighter.

She glanced back at Anakin.  He still fought a terrible lightsaber duel with Darth Vengous, and the bloodstain on his left arm already was larger.  His turquoise blade slashed high and low against the Sith's scarlet one, and the horrible sight of him dodging and weaving around deadly blows sucked the air from Padmé's lungs.

With another burst of great effort Padmé managed a few more paces toward the X-Wing, but it still seemed awfully far away.  And she was beginning to wonder if she could think clearly enough to fly. 

She couldn't help another glance at the duel, and she looked over to see Vengous raise her left hand in the air while still dueling Anakin with the red laser sword in her right. 

Another sharp sound of metal shearing and tearing echoed through the docking bay from above her.  Padmé looked up and watched one of the metal beams along the high ceiling break away and begin to fall. 

Just like the refueling arm a few seconds ago, the beam plummeted directly at her with the unerring accuracy only an attack with the Force could provide.

From the corner of her eye she saw Anakin smash aside the Sith's latest lightsaber blow, then leap toward Padmé with the Force powering his lunge from all those meters away.  In the same instant Vengous lowered her left hand and flicked out her palm.

Everything happened in a flash.  Anakin's body flew in front of Padmé's.  His bloodied left arm heaved upward to shove away the falling metal beam with the Force.  Another barrage of crackling blue lightning shot toward them.  Anakin's turquoise blade slashed in front of him, absorbing the electric currents.  The metal beam smashed down onto the X-Wing, shattering its cockpit in a blast of fire and sparks.  A few arcs of the blue lightning slipped past Anakin's lightsaber and struck him in the chest – and he grimaced and cried out in pain.

Anakin slumped to a knee. 

Padmé looked up at the devastated X-Wing, then back at him.  "Anakin?"

"I know," he said, his voice steeled in concentration as he stood again.  "We'll find another way."

Vengous stalked toward them with excruciating slowness, and a triumphant grin spread across her lips.

Padmé put a hand on Anakin's shoulder.  "Ani…"

He met her gaze, and flashed the smirk she loved.  "Don't worry, angel.  I'll think of something."

Nyklas gurgled, and his small hands poked Padmé on the side of her neck. 

Padmé squeezed her husband's shoulder.  "I know you will."

---

Mara didn't hesitate for long.  She strode forward and swung a single brutal blow with the scarlet lightsaber in her left hand. 

Luke whipped his turquoise blade up from his waist into a two-handed grip and blocked the strike.  The ferocious strength of the violent collision sent spikes of pain through the muscles in his arms.  The blades screeched for a long moment until Luke slid his weapon free and took a long step backward.

"Never lower your defenses," she said.  "It'll get you killed."

"I'll keep that in mind," he replied, and this time he kept his blade ready in front of him.

Mara attacked again, the scarlet and violet laser swords weaving a blinding pattern of arcs and slices through the air.  The barrage was just as fierce as before.  One missed parry would kill him.

Luke defended himself as well as he could, using every trick he knew to stay alive.  He blocked and parried.  He bobbed and weaved.  He counterattacked – and retreated.  None of it mattered.  He was tiring.  He couldn't hold out much longer, not against Mara.  If she continued to attack him, Luke was going to die.

"Mara, please," he said.  "Don't do this.  Let go of your anger.  Leave here with me."

"No," she spat.  "I already told you – no.  I'm better off alone."

"No, Mara.  You never have to be alone again."

"It's too late, Luke.  It's too late." 

And with that she attacked yet again, assaulting him with another series of vicious blows.  Her two blades drove him backward across the floor of the dark throne room.  Her silhouette against the panorama of constellations beyond the tall, wide windows on the far wall was as haunting a sight as he had ever seen.

Luke felt the exhaustion beginning to claim him.  He was parrying less now, and lunging and ducking and fleeing more.  If he kept this up, she would get her wish.  She would drive him all the way out the massive doors, slam them closed, and be long gone by the time he got them open again. 

She would cut him off from her, and be gone forever.

He couldn't let that happen.

Luke gathered the Force within himself and sprang into the air.  Instead of a back flip this time, though, he leaped forward – up and over Mara.  Their energy blades crashed and screeched as he passed over her head, and a moment later he thumped down to his feet again a few meters behind her.

Now he had his back to the windows and the stars, and he began to retreat from Mara once more.  Each stride took him farther and farther from the exit.  She had to make her choice – surrender, or kill him.

The violet and scarlet laser swords attacked, and Luke changed strategy yet again.  He stopped retreating and began to parry.  The Force guided his hands to block her onslaught, and he held his ground. 

Luke looked into Mara's eyes and saw her resolve breaking.  The conflict in her feelings was beginning to overwhelm her.  He just had to hold out a little longer against the two deadly energy blades.

And then, abruptly, for the first time in the duel she faltered, and the Force showed him the weakness instantly.  This was his chance – and he had no choice but to take it.

Luke swung his blade toward Mara's exposed left hand.

---****

Trusting the Force to guide his hands, Luke sliced his turquoise lightsaber downward and with perfect control grazed the thrumming weapon along the back of Mara's left hand. 

She cried out in shock as the searing heat of the energy blade burned her flesh, and instinctively her fingers released their grip on the scarlet laser sword. 

Luke swung back across his body and chopped the glittering silver handle in half.  The red blade winked out of existence and the two metal pieces clattered to the floor.

By then Mara had narrowed her eyes and taken her remaining blade in a two-handed grip.

"So much for your pledge never to hurt me," she hissed.  She didn't even seem to notice the pain.

"You're right," he said.  "Until you release your anger and hate, I can't keep that promise."

She laughed, that same cold and haunting laugh from when he'd first arrived in the throne room a few minutes ago.  "I should have known better than to even think about believing you."

"No, Mara," he replied.  "I'll do whatever it takes to save you.  If you make me."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes.  I'm not leaving without you.  You'll have to surrender – or kill me."

She chuckled grimly.  "You really think you can beat me?"

Luke forced a grin.  "Possibly."

Mara charged him and unleashed a blazing series of arcs and slices.  She still was immersed in Vaapad, and the powerful, violent blows of the deadly technique were wondrous to behold.

Luke parried the strikes aside, but barely.  He was fighting with as much desperate skill as he'd ever managed in his life, because he had no other choice.  He couldn't lose this duel.  He just couldn't. 

The attacks from Mara's violet blade didn't let up, but after a few more frantic heartbeats they seemed to slow.  They weren't as quick, somehow, or as precise.  Her concentration was slipping. 

Snapping aside another blow with a swift block, Luke stretched his perceptions in the Force toward Mara.  Her intentions still were shrouded, and her presence still blurred.  But through the fog of darkness he could sense her pain.  Her ribs ached from his kick.  Her hand stung from the burn.  Her muscles throbbed from exhaustion.  Her body was on the brink of collapse, and it seemed to him that her focus wouldn't be far behind. 

The problem was that he was in the same precarious state himself.  His body was nothing more than a pounding pulse of pain and fatigue, and his mind was in even worse shape.  It was a duel of attrition.  If he could just hold out a bit longer than her, he would win. 

Then he realized that her boiling anger fueled her spirit with an intensity he couldn't match.  That was the lure of the dark side, the strength and power it offered.  If Mara wouldn't abandon the darkness, he couldn't win this fight, no matter how hard he fought her.  The Force was his ally, but not to vanquish her.  He understood that now.  How could he have been so blind?

He was a Jedi.  It was time to act like one.  

Luke parried another strike, then took three long strides backward and deactivated his blade. 

---

Han attached the next detonator to the side of the glowing, pulsing generator column and activated the timer.  He looked down to the pile at his feet.  Only two more left.  A quick glance to the sides confirmed that the others were almost finished setting their detonators too.

From the control panel by the blast door the astromech honked and trilled insistently.  "We really must be going," the protocol droid told them in his obnoxiously jumpy voice.  "Artoo says we only have –"

"I don't care what he says," Han barked.  "I've only got two more left to set."

The astromech started to whistle and blat, but Han ignored him and bent down for the next detonator.  Just before he picked it up all the lights in the room went out – and with a sharp buzz the transparent tube of the generator column suddenly became opaque. 

Han couldn't see a thing.  "What's the big idea, Goldenrod?"

Artoo toodled triumphantly.  "Oh dear," Threepio said.  "It seems Artoo insists he will not restore the lights until everyone agrees to leave immediately.  Master Bryon's instructions, he claims."

"All right," said Winter's voice into the utter blackness of the room.  "We'll leave."

The lights came back on, and Han marched over toward the droids.  When the other four got there too Artoo trilled and the blast door hissed open again – to reveal Danaé waiting for them in the corridor amid the corpses of a dozen more brownshirts. 

Han waggled a finger in the protocol droid's expressionless face.  "Tell your little friend that if he _ever_ pulls anything like that again, I'll have him deactivated.  I don't care _who_ owns him!"

"I'm terribly sorry," Threepio replied in dismay.  "I'm afraid he's ever so stubborn about these sorts of things."

---

The comlink in Will's helmet clicked on again.  He closed his eyes to listen.

"Three minutes," reported Kessa Brittin's voice. 

"Copy, _Invictus_," Wedge replied.  "Holding course."

"Roger, Rogue Leader," Kessa replied.  "_Invictus_ out."

Will took a slow, deep breath.  He'd always envisioned dying on the battlefield, maybe as the last man standing in a valiant effort to hold off the enemy just a little bit longer while others got away.  Something heroic.  Getting blown up in a lander in a failed invasion wasn't exactly his lifelong dream.

Abruptly his helmet comlink double-clicked to the private Special Forces command frequency. 

"When this is over," Cerule said, "remind me to make Skywalker suffer _a lot_ for making us wait so long."

"You'll need a reminder for that?"

"No.  Not really.  Just trying to pass the time here, Graff."

"All right, Starblaze.  How about when this is over, I help you make him suffer?   Double the pain, you know?"

Cerule paused.  "Tempting offer, despite its source.  Can I think about it?"

Will laughed.  "Sure.  For the next two minutes."

---

Anakin took a slow, deep breath and released just a bit of his intense combat focus.  In the Force Padmé's unlimited love and unbounded confidence in him flowed down her arm and hand and fingers and into his shoulder, and spilled through the tiny gap in his concentration like one of the glorious waterfalls of Theed.  With her to bolster him, he knew he could prevail.  He just had to find the Sith Master's weakness.

As Vengous' deliberate prowl slowly drew her closer to them, Padmé released her hand from his shoulder and took a stride backward.  She was ready for anything – whatever he needed of her.  They would succeed.  Together.

Anakin locked his awareness into full battle focus again and stretched out his perceptions in the Force to probe his enemy.  The energy field still boiled and churned from the exertions of the two great warriors.  The Sith Master's intentions remained shrouded behind the veils and fogs of the dark side, but that would give her no great advantage.  Anakin already had proven his power to thwart her dark arts, and he knew she would not be foolish enough to rely solely on them.  Instead she would find a new strategy.

He would do the same.  Rapidly Anakin considered the vast array of combat strategies he had learned and used in over three decades as a Jedi.  Vengous had to be vulnerable to one of them.  He simply had to identify it.

The Sith Master was only a few meters from them now, and she continued to advance.  Her scarlet laser sword thrummed in her hand and her brown eyes flickered with a diabolical hatred of impossible depth. 

Anakin continued to ponder his options as quickly as he could.  Then, abruptly, something in his perceptions caught his attention.  He'd sensed many oddities and anomalies during his duel with his enemy, but he'd simply brushed them aside as manifestations of the deceptions of the dark side.  But what he sensed now – this was different. 

He sensed something familiar, yet faint. 

Almost as if…

The Force drew Anakin's eyes to a pocket along the left thigh of Vengous' black flight suit.  Even with his perceptions still far from clear he knew he had to act immediately. 

Without hesitation Anakin charged the Sith Master, and he reached her in two long strides.  His turquoise lightsaber slashed fiercely through one of the most difficult Vaapad techniques he and Master Windu ever had created.  His enemy parried the attacks, but not easily.  He was closer to landing a blow now.  Closer.

Anakin pressed his offensive with another aggressive pattern of strikes and arcs, driving Vengous backward across the ferrocrete floor of the docking bay beneath his unrelenting barrage. 

Vengous kept an expression of cool confidence on her face as she retreated and parried.  If she felt any fear she was hiding it well.  But Anakin doubted she was afraid.  She couldn't have achieved as much as she already had as a master of darkness without the strongest of wills.

He continued his onslaught without pause, never allowing his enemy a moment to regroup or launch a counterattack.  Anakin knew Vengous would change the terms of the duel soon, but he only needed a few more moments.  Just a few more…

Anakin smashed the red blade to the side and pinned it with his blue one. 

Vengous kept her two-handed grip as she strove to free her weapon. 

That was his chance – and Anakin executed the flawless mental feint he'd perfected over countless hours of sparring with Mara. 

While Vengous responded to his overt intention to tighten the pin with his blade, his body reacted with trained reflex – a swift action without conscious thought.  His enemy had no chance of detecting it before it was too late.

Anakin's left hand released his blade and slashed forward.  Instead of the Force shove he normally used on Mara, though, he seized his enemy by the neck and closed his fingers around her throat. 

Vengous' split-second shock was all the delay he needed. 

Anakin let go of his blade with his right hand and seized the pouch on Vengous' leg.  Simultaneously he tore the pouch away from her flight suit with a tremendous yank and powered the Force through his left arm to blast Vengous backward with an invisible blow. 

By the time the Sith Master hit the floor a dozen meters away, Anakin had snatched his falling turquoise blade from midair with his left hand and held his prize firmly in his right. 

When he looked down into his palm, a broad grin crossed his face.

"Anakin?"  Padmé already was at his side.  "What's going on?"

"I knew I sensed something."  He extended his open right palm to her.

Padmé looked down at the glittering silver handle, and gasped.  "Obi-Wan's lightsaber."

Anakin glanced quickly to the side to see Vengous slowly rising to her feet.  "A trophy from Gimna 3.  I assume she intends to complete her collection today."

Padmé met his gaze.  "With yours."

"Yes."

"So how are we going to stop her?"

Anakin was about to reply when the Sith Master's voice intruded. 

"Impressive, Skywalker," Vengous said.  One slow stride at a time she began to stalk toward them again.  "Although I think you will regret that you did not kill me when you had the chance."

Anakin blinked.  It was true.  He could've snapped her neck and slain her in an instant.  Instead he'd simply taken Obi-Wan's blade away from her.  It hadn't even occurred to him to do otherwise. 

"You are mistaken," Anakin said.  He didn't know why it was true, only that it was.  The Force was guiding him now, in his actions and his words.  And he was going to trust it.  "Soon enough that will be clear."

"Kenobi's blade will not save you," Vengous snarled.  "My victory is inevitable."

"I still have a few surprises left," Anakin said with a grin.  "Your overconfidence will be your undoing."

"Ruses and gambits will not be enough," the Sith Master replied.  "Not by far."

Vengous stopped several meters away and readied her scarlet laser sword.

Anakin clenched his jaw.  His enemy was right.  Subterfuge would not win this fight to the death.  It would take something more.  Far too much was at stake to rely on anything but skill and determination. 

He looked over his shoulder into Padmé's eyes.  "You trust me, right?"

"Yes."

"No matter what I ask of you?"

"I trust you with my life, my body, and my soul.  I always have.  I always will."

Anakin passed her Obi-Wan's lightsaber.  "Let go," he told her.  "Let go, and trust me."

She furrowed her brow in confusion as she took the weapon, but she nodded once.  "I'm yours, Ani.  Always."

---

Padmé watched Anakin's eyes flutter closed for a moment, then pop open again.  A few meters away from them the Sith Master narrowed her eyes and took a long stride forward.

Yet Anakin didn't move.

Then the surreal sensations began.  Padmé felt her grip closing around Obi-Wan's lightsaber handle.  Her fingers adjusted themselves into a perfect grasp.  Her thumb flicked, and with a snap-hiss the shimmering turquoise blade activated in her hands.  Her wrists snapped and rolled a few times, and the blade danced through a series of short, swift arcs.  Her arms extended and held the blade ready in front of her.

She hadn't done that.  Any of it.  She knew she hadn't. 

At her side Anakin took up a ready stance, setting his feet and shifting his matching blue lightsaber into a two-handed defensive position.  He looked over at her and smiled.

Padmé's body moved of its own accord and mirrored his position.  Her feet set.  Her hands shifted.  She was squaring off against Darth Vengous.  She and Anakin.  Together.

From his carrier on her back Nyklas gurgled and whimpered anxiously.  Padmé tried to speak to soothe him, but even as her mind formed the thought she knew her body wouldn't respond.  She was Anakin's now, fully and completely.  She had told him she trusted him with her life, body, and soul – and now all three truly were entirely his.  Through the Force he controlled her body, and with it her life and her soul.  She didn't need him to tell her that if he failed while their spirits were linked in this way, she would die along with him.

Padmé knew she should be afraid, but she wasn't. 

_Let go,_ said Anakin's voice in her mind.  _Trust me_.

_I'm yours_, she thought back.  _Always_.

Padmé felt her legs charge forward when Anakin's did, and in an instant they were dueling the Sith Master.  The pair of turquoise blades sliced and struck with perfect precision at the black-clad woman and her scarlet blade.  Vengous parried and weaved expertly, evading the attacks from her two opponents.

While her body fought with all the skill and talent of a Jedi Master, Padmé felt an even more unnerving vertigo descend over her mind.  She could see and hear and feel everything, and yet her physical form no longer obeyed her mind.  She could think, but she could not do.

She was a spectator within herself.

Padmé could do nothing but trust Anakin – so she did.

---****

While his turquoise blade struck high and low against the Sith Master's scarlet laser sword, Anakin slowly shifted to his left.  Next to him Padmé shifted to her right as she wielded Obi-Wan's shimmering blade in an equally deadly pattern of strikes.  By increasing the angle between them they made it far more difficult for Vengous to defend against them both at the same time.

Anakin swung another blow, but his enemy ducked her shoulders beneath it at the last possible instant.

Padmé's blade swiped across her body, but Vengous deflected the strike just enough to send it wide.

Anakin kept up his attacks, unleashing arcs and slices each more intricate than the last.  Fighting with the lightsaber was one of his greatest talents as a Jedi, and now he had maneuvered his fight with the Sith Master onto his terms.  There would be no barrage of dark side Force powers, not any more.  It would take all her concentration to defend against Padmé and him – even one small error would be fatal. 

The Force pulsed and surged as it flowed through his body and his awareness.  Anakin's hands pressed his onslaught of their own accord, trained by countless hours of practice into mastery of dozens of attacks and defenses.  Padmé's hands did the same, complementing each of his strikes with the deadliest possible swing from the other side. 

In tandem they drove the Sith Master into a retreat.  Anakin's offensive increased in ferocity, and Padmé matched him with spearing lunges and swift arcs that grew ever closer to hitting their enemy.

Padmé's unconditional acceptance of his control of her body let him direct her actions effortlessly.  This was more than a battle meld – far more.  Anakin and Padmé fought as one, because a single mind guided them.  It was a technique he had used only a handful of times in his life, on a few occasions in sparring matches when Obi-Wan had taught it to him, and then several times with Mara to teach her new techniques when necessity required absolute speed in learning.  Only with the two Jedi who held his complete trust and love, and the most recent time had been nearly seven years ago. 

Never before in real combat.

But this was Padmé.  He knew her body as well as he knew his own.  He knew her mind and her spirit better than she knew herself.  There was no feeling of uncomfortable male intimacy as there had been with Obi-Wan.  There was no awkward hesitancy unavoidable with an adolescent Mara.  This was Padmé.  He could lead their bodies to fight in unison against the Sith Master with as much ease as himself alone.

It was a complete surrender to him of Padmé's independence – something he never would have asked of her under any other circumstance but this.  This was his destiny, and far more than their two lives hung in the balance.  Padmé would never forgive him if he had foregone this chance at victory out of concern for her.  She really did love and trust him completely, and he was not about to let her down. 

Anakin swung high and Padmé swung low, and somehow Vengous bobbed and weaved and parried around them.

The Sith Master retreated another stride to avoid a swift downward arc from Padmé's blade, and Anakin closed the distance in an instant and speared with a lunge.  Vengous twisted and slid around the strike, then snapped her red lightsaber around to block a swing from Padmé that would have bisected her at the waist.

Anakin attacked.  Padmé attacked too.  Vengous retreated and defended, but her dodges and parries left no openings.  Not a single one.

Anakin's blue blade was a blinding blur of light in front of him, and from their enemy's other side Padmé's blade danced and darted in dazzling swaths too.  It was as overpowering and dominant an offensive as Anakin ever had unleashed on anyone, even with Obi-Wan or Mara at his side. 

And still Vengous fended them off.  One blade against two, and the Sith Master was invulnerable.  The Force was a maelstrom of power and might around the three of them, and Vengous' dark hatred fueled her talents to incomprehensible heights. 

Anakin emptied his well of skill, pouring every last Vaapad technique into the duel.  Left and right, high and low, slice and lunge, arc and swipe – none of it mattered.  Nothing he tried worked, even with every last bit of combat focus he had ever brought to bear.  Nothing worked.

Padmé swung.  Anakin swung.  Vengous parried and dodged. 

Still nothing worked. 

Anakin felt the desperation building in his gut.  If he couldn't win this way, maybe he couldn't win at all.  But he couldn't afford to lose.  He wouldn't let Vengous kill Padmé.  He wouldn't let Vengous take Nyklas.  He wouldn't fail to fulfill his destiny and let the Sith triumph over the Jedi forever.  He wouldn't. 

If he couldn't win this way, how could he? 

Padmé swung.  Anakin swung.  Vengous parried and dodged. 

He had to win – no matter what it took. 

Padmé swung.  Anakin swung.  Vengous parried and dodged. 

Anakin clenched his blade with crushing strength and narrowed his eyes.  He would win – no matter what.

---

Danaé followed Winter as the intelligence agent led the group back through the maze of corridors in the generator building toward the rear door of the facility.  Quickly she glanced over her shoulder to make sure the droids were keeping up.  Which they were, of course.

Leia looked up at her.  "How long were you waiting out there?"

Danaé shrugged.  "Not very."

"You could've commed us to let you in."

"Mostly I was holding off the brownshirts.  Plus, you didn't need my help to set the –"

Suddenly Danaé's danger sense flared, and instantly she spun on her heel and flicked out her wrist, stretching with the Force to activate a wall panel a few meters back down the hallway.  A thick blast door slammed down, sealing the path behind them. 

Leia gave her a startled look.  "What'd you do that for?"

In reply the floor quaked beneath their feet, the walls creaked and groaned, and a tremendous thundering roar engulfed them.  A heartbeat later a searing hiss wailed from the other side of the blast door. 

"Nice move there, sister," Han said to Danaé.  "Thanks."

"You're welcome," she replied.  "And next time, try to actually set the timers for the correct delay, all right?"

---

From their little alcove by the rear door Sarré stood at Bryon's side and fired out into the darkness of the clearing around the generator building.  The three Special Forces troopers with them shot at the brownshirts too. 

They were still outnumbered, but the situation was looking better.  Maybe they'd actually make it out alive.

No sooner had that thought entered her mind than the distinctive roar of repulsordrives intruded over the chaotic noise of the skirmish in the clearing.  Before Sarré could consider what that might mean, though, an even louder sound drowned out everything.

She nearly stumbled when the ground shook beneath her feet and the clearing lit up with the bright red and orange hues of a massive explosion.  She reached out a hand and clutched Bryon's arm as the planetary shield generator in the building behind them incinerated in a blazing inferno. 

Only a few seconds later the rumble of the detonation quieted – and the roar of the repulsordrives returned much louder than before.

She glanced up at Bryon.  "They have reinforcements, don't they?"

He nodded.  "That's not how our gunships sound.  And the shield wasn't down anyway."

Sarré looked out above the towering treetops and saw the enemy ships coming into view.  "More transports."

"Yes."

She squinted.  "And… What are those?"

"Tankships," Bryon replied, pointing out one of the small, single-pilot enemy craft against the dark nighttime sky.  "For air support."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

She reached out and took his hand.  "Did we…"

He checked the chrono on his other wrist, and nodded.  "We did.  Barely.  But we did.  It's over.  We've won."

She squeezed his hand.  "The Republic has."

"Right."  He squeezed back.  "We can't survive this.  Not now."

"I know."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."  She released his hand and readied her blaster.  "No matter how great the darkness…"

"… I will always have hope."  He hefted his rifle to his shoulder again.  "I love you, Sarré."

She smiled up at him.  "And I love you, Bryon."

---

Wedge Antilles heard the victorious cheers of his pilots over his helmet comlink – and he cheered right along with them.  The shield was down.  And just in the nick of time. 

"Rogue Squadron, let's get these landers on the ground and win this thing!"

A beep sounded on the console of his X-Wing, and Wedge flicked his comlink to broadcast the private channel into the cockpit.  "Yes, Fel?"

"You heard Sergeant Brittin's reports about the impending situation at the shield generator?"

"I did."

His fellow Corellian's deep sigh was clearly audible over the com.  "The Rogues can more than handle the landers, Antilles.  I'm taking the Renegades."

"It's probably too late, you know."

"Probably and a hundred credits will buy you dinner at the Sleeping Bantha."

"All right.  If you insist."

"Thank you."

Another sharp beep sounded from the comlink, and Wedge flicked it over.  "Renegade Leader, Rogue Leader, this is _Invictus_," said the startled voice of Admiral Mirkalla.  "You're deviating from mission parameters.  What's going on down there?"

Wedge reached out a hand and scraped his palm over the microphone.  "Can't hear… Admir…" he said through the false static.  "Your sig… breaking up… Repeat, can't… you, Admiral… signal… up."

Wedge flicked over to Soontir again.  "This better be worth it."

"No way do I fly cover for landers while Solo dies a venerated hero for his bravery.  Not a chance, Antilles.  I won't give him the pleasure."

Wedge laughed.  "You owe me one for this, Fel.  A big one."

---

With as much calmness as he could muster Luke clipped his lightsaber handle to his belt, then let his hands fall to his sides.  He took a slow, deep breath and drew on the soothing energy of the Force to clear his thoughts. 

Mara stood in place a few meters away with her thrumming violet laser sword gripped in both hands.  She didn't move or say a word.  She remained inscrutable in the Force.

"I won't fight you, Mara.  Not any more."

She glared hard into his eyes, and strode a few paces forward.  Close enough to strike him down.

"Let go of your anger," he said softly.  "Release your hate."

"So, is this part of your plan to convince me you're not afraid?"

He nodded.  "I suppose it is."

"You're not fearless, Luke.  You're stupid."

He shrugged.  "It doesn't matter.  I'm not going to fight you."

"Then you're going to die."

"It's your choice."

"You're putting your life in my hands, is that it?"

"Yes."

She scowled, and chuckled derisively.  

"I believe in you," he said.  "I believe in the love we share.  You won't kill me."

Her eyes narrowed.  "Maybe I don't believe in you.  Maybe I never did."

Luke held out his hands.  "Then kill me, and be done with it."

Mara chuckled again.  "You're hiding your fear well, Luke.  Much better than a few minutes ago."

"No, Mara.  I'm not hiding anything.  I'm not afraid."

"Liar!"

"No."

In a flash she strode the final step to him and held her shimmering energy blade across his throat.  A single short movement of her wrist would cleave his head from his body.  "If you don't turn around right now and walk away from me for good, I'm going to kill you where you stand."

"I told you I'm not leaving without you.  That hasn't changed."

"You'll die for nothing."

"No," he whispered.  "I'll die having done everything I possibly could to save you.  That's not nothing – that's everything."

The same unreadable emotion flickered across Mara's face again, and her eyes looked away.  After a long, terrible moment she spoke, and when she did her voice was hoarse and almost inaudible. 

She said only a single word.  "Why?"

"I am a Jedi," Luke said, "like my father before me."

"You walked away from your mission," she rasped.  "You turned your back on your sisters and your brother.  On your duty."

"I did.  But only to come for you.  It was… You were more important."

The violet blade twitched. 

"Choose, Mara," he said.  "What's it going to be?"

Her green eyes met his gaze, and they were filled with unshed tears.  With a soft hiss the violet blade retracted into its handle and vanished – and Mara collapsed into his arms.


	17. Chapter Fifteen

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN**

Bryon unclipped another concussion grenade from his belt and clicked the timer with this thumb. He handed his blaster rifle to Sarré long enough to throw the grenade out into the mass of brownshirts swarming toward them from the gloomy clearing, then started shooting into the closest ranks of the enemy soldiers again.

The first troop transport had landed and unloaded its sixty brownshirts. The second was lowering into a final hover, and the other three were moving into position around the shield generator building. Tankships zoomed around the clearing, blasting away at Bryon's troopers with their heavy cannons. After his order to regroup a minute ago most of the surviving Special Forces had managed to make it back to the building or into the forest. Too many, though, hadn't made it this time.

Bryon had just gunned down another brownshirt when he heard the blast door squeal and hiss open behind him. He glanced quickly back to see Winter leading the way out.

"Mission accomplished," the white-haired intelligence agent told him.

"So I heard," Bryon said, motioning the droids into a corner of the alcove so they'd be out of the line of fire.

"Everyone present and accounted for."

"Good. Not so lucky on my end."

Han hustled up to Bryon's side. "How is it out here?"

"Bad," Bryon replied. "Really bad."

Han looked out into the clearing, then looked back. "Yeah, no kidding! What happened?"

"Two waves," Bryon said. "The first as you went in. The second about a minute ago."

"I don't care how bad it looks," Han said. "I say we fight to the bitter end."

Bryon couldn't help but smile when everyone – Sarré, Leia, Danaé, Lando, Chewie, and Winter – nodded in agreement. "All right," he said. "Concentrate your fire on the brownshirts from that transport that's just landing right now."

Everyone affirmed the orders, and their little group began to fire a barrage of blaster bolts at the dozens and dozens of enemy soldiers in the dark clearing. Bryon knew it wouldn't be enough. Not even close to enough. But it was all they could do.

And then it happened.

Without warning the clearing erupted in a blaze of green laser bolts and fiery explosions. The troop transports on the ground incinerated in massive fireballs, and the ones about to land did too. The tankships were shot out of the sky, sent hurtling into the ground or careening into the wide tree trunks. Cannon bolts slammed into the formations of brownshirts, spraying bodies in all directions.

The onslaught ended a heartbeat before the indistinct white shapes whizzed by at blindingly high speed, followed a second later by an enormous sonic boom and the squealing whine of starfighter drives pushed past atmospheric maximum.

"Alpha Leader, this is Renegade Leader," said a familiar voice over Bryon's comlink. "I hope we're not too late."

"Negative, Renegade Leader," Bryon replied. "Thank you."

"No need for you to thank me," Fel said. "We'll do another pass or two until everything's clear down there. Oh, and please tell Solo he owes me, and he's not getting away lightly this time."

"Copy, Renegade Leader." Bryon clicked off the comlink and turned to the others. He'd set the volume to be audible over the firefight in the clearing; with the skirmish abruptly ended, the words had come through loud enough for the others to hear too.

Leia was laughing. "Tell Fel he can have whatever he wants. Anything!"

"Careful what you say, sweetheart," Han said, scowling. "He might demand my firstborn or something."

At Bryon's side Sarré laughed. "I haven't slept in weeks. At this point he's welcome to ours!"

Bryon laughed too, and everyone began to cheer and cry and embrace in celebration of their victory – and staying alive.

---

Mara didn't really perceive what happened in the moments after she thumbed the switch of her lightsaber to deactivate the blade. All she could think about was her choice – and how close, how terribly close, she had been to making the wrong one. She had been at the very brink of slaying the one person in the universe who mattered more to her than anything. Luke. She almost had killed Luke.

"I'm sorry," she gasped. "I'm so sorry."

"Shh," he said, brushing the hair off her face. "It's all right."

Mara realized she was slumped on the throne room floor with her burned left hand clutched to her chest. Luke was kneeling with her, holding her shoulders in his arms and resting her against his chest. "Luke… I…"

He bent down to kiss her forehead. "You don't have to say anything. You're back. That's all that matters."

"No, it isn't," she said. "Luke… I…"

He smiled, and nodded once.

"You never doubted me, even for a second?"

"No."

Mara smiled back. "I love you."

"And I love you."

Her heart soared, and she tried to reach out and embrace him too. She found, though, that she didn't have the strength. "Luke…"

"I know," he said. He pulled her closer, and in the Force she felt him wrap his awareness around her like a warm, protective cocoon.

She knew he was shielding her from a million disturbing sensations in the Force from whatever was happening in the palace and city around them. She'd felt glimpses of that turmoil during their duel, but her combat concentration had been so intense she'd shunted them all aside. Now that she'd yielded to him, though, those perceptions ought to have roared back into her mind. But they hadn't, because he was protecting her.

Mara let him, and for once it didn't bother her at all.

"I thought… I thought I knew what I was doing," she said. "I thought I had everything under control."

Luke nodded. "The dark side is strong that way. It doesn't only cloud the Force. It clouds judgment too."

"I know," she said, hot tears running down her cheeks. "I know. But I let it happen anyway."

"You did what you thought was right."

"Yes."

"And then along the way you lost perspective, only you didn't know it at the time."

"Yes."

"It happens to everyone, Mara," he said. "It happened to Obi-Wan when Qui-Gon was murdered. It happened to my father more than once. No Jedi is perfect."

She nodded, and with great effort took his hand in both of hers.

He looked down for a long moment at their clasped hands, then into her eyes. "Certainly not me."

Her left hand, the back of it blistered and burned, was atop his right hand – his cybernetic hand. "Luke, stop…"

"Something happened at Jabba's palace."

"I should have told you."

"What happened?"

Mara told him everything. About Jabba. About the vision at the officers' ball, and the slain Sith. About the nightmare that had led her to flee him and go to Naboo. About the last vision that had sent her to Vyhrrag. About the enemy generals. About Argis.

When she finished Luke kissed her tenderly. "You're right – you should have told me."

"I… I was wrong."

Luke tried hard not to smirk, but it didn't work.

Mara grinned. "I wouldn't get used to hearing that if I were you. And try not to enjoy this too much, all right?"

"I won't. I promise."

"I'm so stupid," she sobbed. "How could I not see what was happening to me? How could I be so blind?"

"You had information. You had to act. I would have done the same thing."

"I suppose so. But that doesn't excuse it, Luke. It can't."

"No. Of course not," he said, wiping away her tears with his thumb. "Listen to me, Mara. The important thing is that you understand now. You won't let it happen again."

"No. Never."

"Everything will be all right."

"I'm so sorry," she said. "I never meant for it to come to this."

"Of course you didn't." With his free hand he cupped her cheek in his palm. "Next time, let me help you."

"I will. I promise."

He closed his eyes for a long moment, and the Force surged. "We need to go. We don't have much time."

Mara closed her eyes and drew on the Force. It was cool and soothing, not like the boiling heat of the wrath she'd carried with her until just a few minutes ago. She opened herself to the purifying energy, and it gave her what she needed. Not power to inflict her will, but an ally in her struggle against exhaustion and pain. She felt her body regaining strength, and slowly she sat up. Her chest still throbbed and her hand still stung, and every muscle ached as badly as she'd ever felt before. But none of it mattered to her. Not now.

She looked up. "Luke?"

He already was on his feet. "Yes?"

"I need your help."

Deep down inside she still expected him to gloat at her admission of weakness. But he didn't. He simply smiled a warm, caring smile and reached out his hand to her.

Mara took his hand and pulled herself up. She wrapped an arm around his waist and let him wrap both of his around her when she swayed a bit. She leaned her head on his shoulder and took a deep breath.

Luke kissed her forehead. "Are you ready?"

"Almost." She took another deep breath. "Do you think Anakin will ever forgive me?"

"For what?"

"For how I treated him. For all the hurt I caused. And after all that, for being a hypocrite."

"Of course he will."

"You promise?"

"I promise." Luke smiled. "He loves you like family, Mara. He would forgive you anything, just as he would any one of us."

She nodded once. "I… I know. It's just… Right now, I don't feel worthy of it."

Luke leaned in and kissed her gently on the lips. "Mara, will you be my wife?"

She blinked. "Wh – what?"

"Marry me, Mara."

She stared at him in disbelief. After what she'd just done to him? Had he gone mad? He must have. It was the only explanation. She was about to tell him so when she remembered what he'd said. _Unconditionally._

"Yes, Luke," she said. "I'll marry you."

"Good," he said. "Now let's get out of here."

She nodded, and followed along with him toward the wide doors to the throne room and the hallway beyond. It was slow going at first, but soon she simply abandoned her pride and let him lead her.

Mara held onto him tightly. "Luke?"

"What is it?"

"I think we need to work on being more honest with each other."

He laughed. "Yes, Mara, I think we do."

---

Anakin swung another vicious strike at the Sith Master, but Vengous parried it away – then spun around to block the slicing arc from Obi-Wan's blade in Padmé's hands from the opposite side.

Nothing he had tried had worked. Nothing.

Anakin retreated two strides, and with his mind he guided Padmé to do the same. They stood with their enemy between them, now just out of striking distance.

"Good," Vengous said, an arrogant grin spreading across her lips. "Finally, at last, you fear me."

"I'm not afraid," Anakin said. "Not of you."

Vengous laughed. "Then you are a fool."

The Sith Master charged him with two long strides and attacked with ferocious swings of her scarlet laser sword. Her blade slashed high and low in a blistering series of strikes.

Anakin trusted the Force to guide his hands, and his turquoise lightsaber repelled the onslaught with room to spare. In his mind he felt Padmé's desperate urge to assist him, and for a moment he nearly drew her into the fight. Yet Vengous had attacked only him, and she had made no move to threaten Padmé this time.

Why should she? Vengous could slay Padmé in the blink of an eye if Anakin was dead first. All along Padmé had been a distraction.

Only the Chosen One mattered.

Anakin's blade danced in front of him and continued to parry his enemy's barrage. Relentlessly he sought to find a weakness in her technique, an opening to pierce or a vulnerability to exploit. But he found nothing. Vengous' skills were a match for his own – just as she found no gaps in his defenses, he found none in hers.

Perhaps his enemy was right. Perhaps he had made a fateful miscalculation when he had taken Obi-Wan's blade from her instead of snapping her neck while he held it in his bare hand.

Obi-Wan's blade. Padmé's hands. His enemy's throat in his grasp.

There was a lesson there. Somewhere. Anakin was a Jedi Master, but he was not all-powerful or all-knowing. Each day he discovered that he had more to learn – about the Force and about himself.

Frantically Anakin tried to discern the inscrutable message from the Force. Why had it guided him to do what he had done moments ago? What did he have yet to learn? How would he fulfill his destiny, if he could not defeat the Sith Master still raining down blow after violent blow upon him?

Anakin pondered Vengous' words. She had claimed she had foreseen his death at her hands. She had insisted her victory over him was inevitable. She had vowed that only one of them would walk away from this final confrontation alive. She had controlled every aspect of the situation so that no matter what occurred, her triumph was inevitable. She already had defeated him.

And Anakin knew she was right. He had lost. He understood that now.

That was the lesson from the Force.

Sometimes for a Jedi, defeat was victory.

---****

Anakin rolled his wrists and turned the parry with his blue lightsaber into a swift counterattack. He arced and sliced with flawless form, pressing a vigorous offensive against his enemy.

The Sith Master fended off his onslaught with perfect form of her own, parrying and blocking and bobbing and weaving to avoid each attack in turn.

Anakin increased the pace of his blows, and slowly he began to circle his opponent.

Vengous matched his technique. Her feet kept her in position. Her hands guided her scarlet laser sword to meet his high and low, left and right. Her eyes were locked to his in a grim stare, and the same triumphant grin remained frozen on her face. Her confidence that he would die was unwavering.

Anakin struck again, and once again the red blade blocked him. Padmé was behind him now – so Anakin surged forward. The terrible efficiency of Vaapad drove the Sith Master backward. It was a slow retreat, but it was a retreat nonetheless. After a few more meters Anakin stopped, set his feet, and held his ground. Padmé wanted to join him, to help him somehow. She did not want to stand by while he fought Vengous alone.

But she had to. Anakin retained his control over her body, and her mind was powerless to overcome him.

In his awareness he felt Padmé cry out in frustration and fear, so strongly that he felt Nyklas ache in sympathy.

Despite the way her suffering tore at his heart, Anakin would not yield.

He had made his choice.

Anakin took his weapon in both hands and continued his attacks on his enemy. Once again he began to circle Vengous, smashing blow after blow into her red blade to dominate her movements.

The Sith Master's defenses were as invulnerable as ever. His blows were accurate and true, but her parries and dodges were equal to the task. Her lightsaber was a brilliant blur of color in front of her as it cut the air in a dazzling pattern of arcs to repel every attack he tried.

At just the right moment Anakin swung his next attack just a little too wide. To his opponent it would have looked like an error – the first small mistake by a dominating warrior. But it was not an error.

Vengous capitalized without hesitation. Her shimmering energy blade unleashed an onslaught of blows – a ferocious offensive unmatched by anything she had tried so far.

Anakin felt the Force pulsing and surging in his body. Parry. Dodge. Block. Sidestep.

His movements were effortless. His techniques were perfect.

The Sith Master's aggressive attacks were ruthless and formidable, but still she had not breached his defenses.

Deliberately Anakin missed a parry. Not one that would harm him, but simply one that let the red blade slice far closer to his arm than it should have.

His enemy's attacks grew more brutal. More violent.

Anakin missed another parry. And another.

Vengous pressed her attacks harder still. Her eyes were afire with hate. Her grin widened in anticipation.

She believed he was weakening. She believed the fatal mistake she had foreseen was only moments away.

Anakin slid his blade out of a parry and counterattacked. He swung his lightsaber with strong, reckless arcs and lunges. He charged forward, and managed to drive the Sith Master a few paces toward Padmé. He fought like a man with nothing left but hopeless, blind desperation.

Vengous was persuaded.

The Force told him it was true.

In that moment Anakin knew he had prevailed. He had found her weakness. Not arrogance. Not anger. Not overconfidence. Not hate.

Selfishness.

Panic and despair seemingly had consumed him, and so inevitably his ultimate failure was at hand. His pathetic Jedi frailties had doomed him. And now, in the seconds before his demise, Vengous cared only about her personal triumph. Her own victory – her killing of the Chosen One – had become more important than anything. More important than being Master of the Sith.

Vengous had put herself first, and duty second.

Anakin would not do the same.

He would do his duty, no matter the sacrifice it required.

He would be a Jedi – without regret.

Anakin swung one more left-right-left pattern of strikes. The last blow clashed with the Sith Master's scarlet laser sword, and his turquoise blade arced downward.

Anakin released his left hand from the handle.

The lightsaber continued to descend to his waist.

Instead of looping it around for an attack or parry, Anakin let the thrumming energy blade hang in the air, out of position and pointed to the side. His empty left hand mirrored the pose.

He was defenseless.

Vengous grinned in exultation.

The red blade dipped into position.

Vengous lunged.

Anakin's gut exploded with searing pain as the red lightsaber plunged into him.

Vengous lunged harder, driving the shimmering weapon forward.

The pain vanished. The Force absorbed his agony. The Sith Master's blade speared all the way through him, but Anakin felt nothing. The Force was his ally to the end.

Anakin waited. The Force did not let him down.

A single heartbeat later Obi-Wan's blue blade swung in from behind his enemy – and it cleaved Darth Vengous' head from her shoulders with a single effortless swipe.

Obi-Wan's blade in Padmé's two-handed grip. It was appropriate, Anakin thought. The two most important individuals of his adult life, aiding in his triumph.

The prophecy was fulfilled.

The Sith were extinct.

Anakin had brought balance to the Force.

The Chosen One was victorious.

The red blade that impaled Anakin through the abdomen retracted with a hiss as the hand holding it fell away.

The blue arc followed through its swing, then vanished as Padmé thumbed off the weapon and tossed it aside. Even as the headless torso of the Sith Master dropped toward the floor, Anakin relinquished all his control over Padmé's body in an instant. She staggered at the sensation of abruptly regaining direction of her own movements.

The corpse of the Sith Master thumped to the floor between them.

Anakin's eyes found Padmé's.

For a moment she smiled – until she saw the hole burned into him just above his belt.

Her eyes met his again.

Anakin's legs gave way, and he slumped to his knees. His eyes never left hers.

Padmé took an awkward step toward him.

Anakin smiled.

Padmé took another step, and another.

For a long moment Anakin closed his eyes, and projected his will into the Force.

Padmé's hands seized him by the shoulders.

He opened his eyes and looked at her.

"It's over," he told her. "We've won."

---

Luke kept his arm wrapped tightly around Mara's slim waist while they hurried through the corridors of the royal palace. She was keeping up with his fast pace rather well, but occasionally she would stumble or slow, and when she did he supported her with all his strength.

In the Force Luke could sense the panicking of Argis' minions, and from their acute fear he knew that Victory Strike must be fully underway by now. Perhaps the shield generator already was destroyed, and the invasion had begun. He couldn't know for sure, but the terror reaching his awareness would fit a frantic evacuation of palace. Regardless, one thing he knew for certain was that no one had any interest in detecting or preventing their escape.

Mara stumbled again, and Luke clutched her tightly and used a quick surge of the Force to keep her upright. All of her rage had drained away now, and the effort of sustaining that fury had taken a toll on her body. She was utterly exhausted, and only her desperate desire to get to safety with him gave her the determination to continue.

Luke tightened his hold on her waist a bit more, and together they kept going.

Soon they exited the palace and made their way to the grove where the speeder bike was waiting for them. Luke pushed the branches out of the way and led Mara into the small gap between the trees. He sighed in relief to see the bike still there, hovering in place on its repulsor.

"Come on," he said to her. "It's time to go."

Mara smiled a little, and nodded. She took a single stride closer to him – and suddenly cried out in pain, clutching her hands to her belly, squeezing her eyes shut tightly against a searing pain, and falling to her knees.

For an instant Luke thought she'd been shot, but his perceptions in the Force told him there was no new physical injury to her body. He rushed to her side, kneeled down, and embraced her shoulders so she wouldn't topple forward on her face. He surged his awareness into her, seeking the source of her terrible pain and giving her the extra strength she needed to keep from slipping into unconsciousness.

"Oh, no," she gasped, looking into his eyes. "No! _No!_"

Before he could ask what she meant, she opened her mind and revealed to him what she'd felt – and a phantom pain stabbed Luke in the gut. His eyes widened, and Mara reached up her wounded left hand to rest her fingers on his cheek. In that horrible moment he understood.

"Dad," he whispered. "No!"

She could only nod once, tears streaming down her cheeks. She let him deeper into her mind, and Luke realized that as much as she had pulled away from Anakin since Gimna 3, as much as she had strained against his attempts to reconcile, her bond with her former Master remained a powerful center deep within her soul. Even in the worst moments of her brush with darkness she never had severed her connection with him.

Luke slumped forward and rested his forehead on hers. Through that unique bond of love and veneration Mara had felt the mortal wound when even her Master's own son had not.

"No," Mara said again, sobbing. "No. He can't die! He can't! I never got to tell him… No! I need to tell him…"

"Shh," Luke whispered, and kissed her once on her salty lips. "He knows. He knows."

She blinked a few times through her tears, and finally nodded against his forehead. "Yes. He knows."

He pulled her against him and clutched her desperately, and they held their kneeling embrace and cried. There was nothing to say. Nothing they could say. He knew that if they hadn't been with each other at this moment, the anguish would have consumed them. Instead, somehow the solace of the embrace gave them the will to go on.

Luke gazed into Mara's eyes again, and their lips met for another tear-stained kiss. When he realized she lacked the strength to stand, he scooped her into his arms and carried her to the speeder bike. Gently he put her astride it, then climbed up at the controls. She wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face against his back, and he fired up the engine. He swallowed hard, and then disengaged the brake and flew them away.

---

Danaé stood with her hands clasped behind her back and watched her brother coordinate the loading of the last four gunships in the dark clearing. After the X-Wings of Renegade Squadron had made quick work of the enemy forces at the shield generator, several sets of gunships had arrived to retrieve their small strike force.

She raised her eyes toward the constellations in the nighttime sky and did her best to soothe away the churning sensations in the living Force around her. Nearly half of Bryon's platoon was dead, and most of the other two dozen were wounded. As many as thirty of the rebels were dead too, and their wounded had been evacuated right along with the Republic's. Hundreds of brownshirts had died, whether from the firefights or the final aerial attack.

The sensation of death and suffering was pervasive in this clearing now. Danaé knew it would persist here for decades. Long after all those who had survived this battle were dead.

Danaé also knew that she and her brother and sister and the rest of them had done what had to be done. Ending the war and stopping Argis had been imperative, and violence had been the only option. Many individuals had died in this clearing to ensure that many thousands times more throughout the galaxy would live.

Danaé had done her duty, and she had no misgivings. Not this time.

The repulsordrives of three gunships roared, and the craft rose slowly into the air and flew away. Danaé paced solemnly toward the final one, where Bryon was getting the rest of their small group aboard. When she arrived it was just her brother, Sarré, and Leia still standing on the bloodied, charred grass.

Bryon was holding Sarré's hand. "It's time to go," he said. "We're needed elsewhere."

Leia nodded. "You did well. I'm proud of you."

Danaé was about to add congratulations of her own when a familiar presence reached out to her through the Force. The message was brief, almost hurried, but it was laden with a million different emotions. Love. Pride. Faith. Hope. Sadness. Wistfulness. And maybe, just maybe, the smallest bit of regret.

Unbidden tears poured from Danaé's eyes, and she looked at her siblings. Bryon's face was ashen, his jaw limp, his eyes filled with fear and disbelief. Leia's hands were trembling, her lip quivering, her eyes wide with shock. They had felt it too – as somehow Danaé had known they would.

After what seemed like forever but really could have been only a few seconds, Bryon found his voice first. "Did… Did you… Did you feel it too?"

Leia reached out to steady herself on Sarré's shoulder. Leia was crying now too. "Daddy?"

Danaé nodded. "Yes."

"What was it?" Bryon's tears flowed freely.

Leia looked at Danaé beseechingly. "What's going on?"

Danaé could only shake her head.

"Danaé? What's going on?" Leia was still in denial. "What's going on?"

Danaé pulled her brother and sister into a tight embrace. "It was Daddy," she told them. "He was reaching out to us through the Force because…"

They looked at her desperately when her voice trailed off. Danaé kissed Leia tenderly on the forehead, just like he would have done. Like he must have wanted to do, but couldn't.

"He was saying goodbye."

---****

Unconsciousness had overcome Mara by the time the speeder bike reached the _Lady Vader_. Her eyes fluttered open briefly when Luke hefted her into his arms again, but she said nothing and her head slumped against his chest. Quickly he carried her up the boarding ramp into the starship.

Luke slid her limp body into one of the bunks and pulled down the straps that would keep her in place if they encountered any obstacles on the flight out. There was no time to tend to her injuries, not now. He bent down and kissed her tenderly on the lips, then hurried out into the narrow cabin hallway.

When he got to the cockpit he practically leaped into the pilot's seat.

"Are we ready, Jaytoo?"

From his station in the rear of the cockpit the black-and-gold astromech whistled and toodled affirmatively.

"Good." Luke's fingers flew across the console, activating the ship for takeoff and combat in a matter of a few rapidly pounding heartbeats. "Let's get out of here."

Jaytoo blooped in agreement, then trilled a worried query. "No, she's all right," Luke replied. "She's… a little… shaken up. She just needs to sleep."

The droid beeped in understanding, and went to work scrolling a selection of sensor analysis information on the heads-up data projection on the viewport.

"Thanks, Jaytoo," Luke said. He pulled on the two-handed control stick and lifted the starship into a steep climb into the dark nighttime sky. He kept a constant eye on the scanners and sensors, but soon it became apparent that just like their escape from the palace, the Vyhrragians had far greater concerns than an isolated starship ascending from the forest.

The Republic fleet, on the other hand, surely would have noticed them by now.

Luke confirmed that the _Lady Vader_'s Jedi identifications codes were broadcasting, then flicked open the comlink and waited. It didn't take long for the familiar voice to greet him.

"_Lady Vader_, this is Rogue Leader. Do you need assistance?"

"Negative, Rogue Leader," Luke replied, not even bothering to try to keep the exhaustion from his voice. "All I need is a docking bay."

"Luke? Is that you?"

"It's me, Wedge."

There was a short pause. "You're cleared to the _Invictus_, Luke. May the Force be with you."

"And also with you, Wedge."

Remarkably the flight up to the _Invictus_ was uneventful, and Luke easily landed the _Lady Vader_ in one of the small side docking bays. A quick comlink call to Kessa Brittin confirmed they were aboard, and then Luke carried Mara to the medical ward. After a triage droid treated and bandaged the burn on her left hand, Luke brought her to the guest quarters on the destroyer. He laid her down on the bed in one of the small rooms, sat down next to her, and stroked her face.

She opened her eyes and looked up him. "Where… are we?"

"We're safe," he soothed, then wrapped himself around her. "We're safe."

Mara nodded weakly, and rested her face against his chest. Luke pulled her against him and held her tightly. They were alive and they were safe. There wasn't anything else they could do right now. All he could do was hold Mara while she slept, and keep her safe, and never, ever let her go. Luke pulled her just a little bit tighter against him, and held her until he drifted off to sleep too.

---

Padmé held on tightly to Anakin's shoulders. "We won?"

"Yes," he said. "I've brought balance to the Force."

"Oh, Anakin!" She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her forehead to his. "I'm so proud of you."

He smiled. "I know, angel."

Then, suddenly, he slumped into her. Padmé cradled his shoulders in her arms as she carefully kneeled down on the floor. He lay in her lap, looking up at her.

Padmé snatched her comlink from her belt. It worked now, and she tapped in the panic alert. "Hold on, Ani," she said. "They'll be here soon."

He shook his head. "Angel… It's too late."

"No!" She squeezed him to her. "No! It isn't!"

"Yes, angel. It is."

Padmé looked down at his abdomen, and her heart froze in her chest. The lightsaber wound was devastating. Far worse than it had looked at first glance a few seconds ago. "Stay with me, Ani," she pleaded. "You can't die. I'll save you. I can save you."

Anakin reached up a hand and pressed his fingers to her cheek. "I've fulfilled my destiny," he said, his voice already quiet and hoarse. "I've carried out the task I was born to do."

"You don't have to die! I won't let you."

"You can't stop death. No one can."

"You can!"

"No." His hand fell away.

"Yes! Try! You have to try!"

"No, angel. I can't defeat death."

"Anakin! Stop this! You can't die."

His hand rose again, and it clutched the front of her white flight suit and tugged her toward him. "It is the will of the Force."

She wanted to cry out in rage. "Why?"

"I don't know."

"Then why do we have to follow it?"

"Angel, please…"

Padmé saw the anguish in his eyes, and took a deep breath. If he was going to die, she didn't want his last thoughts of her to be frustration and disappointment. "Anakin…"

"You'll be all right, Padmé."

"You can't die. I can't go on without you."

"You must."

"No. I can't."

"You must."

Padmé saw his lightsaber handle lying on the ground next to them. She reached out a hand and picked it up. "I can't, Ani. I can't go on without you."

He let go of her flight suit and rested his hand atop hers. "You will find a way."

"No." She spun the silver handle in her fingers until it pointed at her belly, and she readied her thumb. "You are my life. You are my soul. You are everything. Without you I'm nothing."

"That's not true, angel."

"It is true. I'm nothing without you. If you must die, then I'll die with you."

His fingers tightened around her hand. "No. My death is the will of the Force. Yours is not."

"How can you know that?"

"I do."

She didn't know why, but Padmé believed him. He drew her hand away from her body, and she released the weapon to him. He set the metal handle down on the ground, then took her hand in his. She leaned down and kissed him on the forehead. "How can the Force ask me to go on without you?"

Anakin smiled weakly. "The same way it can ask me to leave you on your own."

"I don't understand."

"My choice… my destiny… All my life I've been selfish. I've wanted to be a Jedi and have you. I've wanted to do my duty and have a family. I've wanted to have everything."

"What's so wrong with that?"

"Nothing, angel. But I'm the Chosen One. My destiny – my duty – was to bring balance to the Force. I tried everything I could, everything I could think of… but… there was only one way."

"To put duty above self."

"Yes."

"I understand." Padmé squeezed him tightly. She understood all too well.

"And you must do the same."

She met his gaze. "But…"

"You must. It is the will of the Force."

She swallowed hard. "I… I will do as you wish, Anakin."

He smiled. "In doing so you make your own sacrifice."

"It hardly seems comparable, Ani."

"To us, perhaps not. To the Force…"

She nodded. "How long? How long without you?"

"I don't know. Until your own destiny is fulfilled."

"When? How will I know?"

He shook his head, and when he spoke his voice was hardly a whisper. "I will come for you."

"Yes." She pulled him closer. "I'll be waiting."

He took a deep, shuddering breath. "The Republic needs you"

"Then I will serve, but not long. Soon someone else will stand forward to lead."

"Our children need you. And our grandchildren."

In her anguish Padmé had forgotten all about Nyklas in the carrier on her back. She looked over her shoulder to see their young grandson waiting silently. His wide indigo eyes closed and his face turned away. Nyklas knew somehow, and could not intrude.

Padmé looked down at Anakin in her lap. His face was ashen and his hands had begun to tremble. His eyelids sagged and he barely managed a smile. She smiled back. "For the children and the grandchildren, then. For our family."

"Thank you."

She leaned down and kissed him tenderly on the lips. "I love you, Anakin."

With a terrible grimace he lifted his face and kissed her back one last time. "And I love you, Padmé."

She cupped his cheek in her hand. "May the Force be with you."

He nodded once, and closed his eyes.

Padmé felt the breath leave his body, and only then did the tears begin to stream down her cheeks. She sobbed uncontrollably, and she could not bring herself to let his limp form go. She held him, and wept.

Anakin was dead.

---

When the small military shuttle landed in the gigantic docking bay of the _Invictus_, Danaé was there to meet it. She stood patiently to the side until Bryon and Leia finished passing along the documents and datapads to the waiting Navy officers and walked over to join her.

Bryon leaned in to kiss her cheek. "How's the situation up here?"

"Everything's under control," she replied, handing him a small datapad Kessa Brittin had given her. "The last warships in the system gave up well before word of the ceasefire."

"Sarré?"

"Still sleeping off the painkillers."

"Good, on both counts," her brother said. For a moment he paused, then tucked the datapad in a pocket without even turning it on. "Will and Cerule made quick work of the conquest. It was practically over by the time I got back down there. The surrender went smoothly as well."

They began to walk toward the turbolifts on the far wall. Bryon clasped his hands behind his back, and Danae wrapped an arm around Leia and pulled her close.

Leia laughed. "That's an interesting use of the word 'smoothly' if I've ever heard one."

Danaé raised an eyebrow at her brother. "Oh?"

He grinned. "Okay, so there were… a _few_ snags between the ceasefire and the surrender."

Leia shook her head in bemusement.

"You know," Danaé said, "you're almost making me sorry I didn't join you."

Leia wrapped an arm around Danaé's waist and began to describe the hours before the formal surrender. The initial reports had been correct – Argis was dead, and so were all his top military commanders. That had left the chains of command in the dictator's regime in chaos, and it had taken hours to determine that no one of any significance was actually in charge. At the same time the Vyhrragians had revealed that Argis was the last of his line, and the planet's disbanded parliament would have to be convened to choose a new royal family from among the ancient nobility. At Leia's suggestion the rebel's Colonel simply had declared himself Regent for the vacant crown and had ordered the Vyhrragian forces to stand down. Finally, in an irony lost on no one, the Colonel who had fought Argis' tyranny for years had signed the documents surrendering the fallen planet to the Army of the Republic.

Leia finished her account just as they arrived in the small lounge of the guest quarters of the destroyer. They walked inside to find Luke and Mara waiting for them.

Danaé was almost startled by the striking image. Mara gazed out the viewport at the constellations while Luke held her from behind, his arms around her waist and his chin atop her head. Danaé doubted they realized they were replicating the pose in which Anakin had held Padmé so many hundreds of times. It was better that they didn't, probably. That would only make their sense of loss that much more painful – and it already was unbearable.

Luke looked back over his shoulder. "It's done?"

"Yes," Leia said, still holding on tightly to Danaé. "It's over."

Danaé watched Bryon join Luke and Mara at the viewport, and for a moment she thought back to the first time she had been in this room when the _Invictus_ had launched the mission to rescue Leia from Xixus. That had been only a year and a half ago, and yet so much had changed. The other four here with her now had grown and aged in so many ways in that time, and Danaé almost laughed to herself at the difference between the troubled Padawan she had been then and the steady Jedi Knight she was today. So much had changed – and with their father gone their lives would change in infinite and unknowable ways in the days and weeks and months and years to come. And yet the five of them were here, and they were together. Together they would go on. They were family.

Danaé pulled Leia closer. "It's time to go home."


	18. Chapter Sixteen

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN**

Barriss Offee stood on the Jedi Council's observation balcony overlooking the enormous bowl of the Galactic Senate chamber and watched as the pods of the hundreds of delegations slowly began to fill. Supreme Chancellor Amidala had not announced an agenda for the session, and conflicting reports on the Holonet disputed whether the Chancellor in fact had lifted the adjournment of the legislative body or instead simply had convened the representatives for a joint briefing on the end of the Vyhrragian war. Barriss had her suspicions, but they were only that.

She would know soon enough, along with the Senators and the citizens of the galaxy. There was no point in speculating any further.

"Anakin was right," Barriss said quietly.

At her sides her two friends looked at her in surprise.

"Our meditations are clear. Our perceptions are not shrouded." Barriss clasped her hands in front of her. "It is different than after Sidious was slain. It is different now. Brighter."

"Yes," Aayla Secura said. "I agree."

Valin Halcyon crossed his arms over his chest. "Balance is restored to the Force."

"It is," Barriss said. "There is no doubt of it."

"The Sith have been defeated," Valin said. "Their menace has been vanquished forever."

"Unimaginable suffering in the galaxy has been avoided," Aayla added, gazing out over the chamber. "Intolerable evils have been averted."

Barriss nodded once. "Yet darkness remains. Evil persists. So long as some crave power, or wealth, or supremacy, the dark side will offer them the tools of aggression and domination."

"Just as the light will be an ally to those who seek peace and justice in the Republic," Aayla said. "The Jedi will stand against darkness, as we always have."

"Our task is simpler now," Valin said. "The Sith were a perversion of the Force – a corruption of its power beyond the bounds of reason. With their evil extinguished, it is only the natural balance of light and dark that we must maintain. And without the fog of their diabolical plots to cloud our vision."

Barriss smiled. "Simpler, perhaps. But not simple."

"No," Valin conceded. "The galaxy is too large, and we are too few."

"As it has always been," Aayla reminded them calmly. "We will do our duty as we have always done. We will serve the Senate and the Republic, and follow our mandate and the Jedi Code."

"And the will of the Force," Barriss said.

"As Anakin did," Valin said, nodding.

"Yes," Aayla said. "The Code, our rules, our service to the Republic… None of that matters if we do not first serve justice, and the Force."

Barriss closed her eyes for a moment. "There will be dark times in years to come. That is the way of things – light and dark ebb and flow, and achieve balance."

"Darkness will always exist," Valin said. He smiled. "But darkness cannot triumph. Darkness can rise, but it cannot endure."

"No," Barriss agreed. "That is what Anakin has won for us – the balance of the Force."

"And for that," Aayla said, "we owe him an eternal debt of gratitude."

Barriss glanced around the Senate chamber and saw that nearly all the pods now were filled. "They will begin the session soon," she said.

Even as the words left her mouth and her companions nodded, a building murmur rose from the gathered Senators. Far below on the floor a single pod had begun to rise toward the Supreme Chancellor's podium atop its high column in the center of the expansive chamber.

Barriss tapped the viewscreen on the low front wall of the observation balcony, and the image focused on the ascending pod.

Barriss recognized the seated figures immediately. Supreme Chancellor Amidala wore a black gown, and a thin black veil hung down over her face. At her sides were her old friends Sabé Bellion and Jar Jar Binks, both dressed in similar black attire of mourning from their homeworld of Naboo.

The pod slowed to a stop, and the three figures disembarked and took up their posts on the Chancellor's podium. The murmur quieted as the veiled woman faced the assembled delegates.

"May the Force be with you, Padmé," whispered Barriss.

Padmé's gloved hands rose and lifted the veil up and off her face. Unlike her address to the Senate declaring her candidacy for Supreme Chancellor, she wore no ceremonial makeup and no formal jewelry of any kind. Instead she looked like nothing more than a humble woman in mourning, one of thousands across the galaxy widowed by the war. Without the pageantry of the Senate around her, she would not seem at all like the leader she was.

Barriss smiled. The only adornment to the black gown was the familiar japoor snippet pendant hanging from a thin chain. And Barriss no longer had any doubt what Padmé would say.

"Senators, delegates, fellow citizens of the Republic," Padmé's image on the small viewscreen said steadily, "I come before you to account for my actions, and to undo what I have done. I do not seek your forgiveness or your approval. I do not wish to avoid responsibility for my decisions, or to claim any special prerogative to justify them. I will provide my conclusions and reasons to you, and I will submit myself to your judgment."

A surprised rumble echoed through the cavernous bowl. In the Force Barriss could sense the disbelief and shock of many Senators, and the rejoicing of others.

Padmé squared her shoulders and lifted her face to the assembled legislature. "I hereby rescind my decree adjourning this body indefinitely. Under the rules of procedure, it is my duty to declare that the Senate is now in plenary session for the conduct of business."

A thunderous ovation filled the chamber, and every Senator in attendance stood and applauded the Supreme Chancellor's announcement. When the clamor faded, Padmé began her address. She described the Victory Strike plan and the secrecy with which it had been designed and implemented. She discussed the state of the war and her reasons for concluding that decisive action had been imperative. She explained why suspending the Senate had been the best option among undesirable alternatives, and why Victory Strike had been the best choice for the Republic.

Padmé smiled, and concluded her speech. "Thank you," she said. "May the Force be with you."

Another round of cheering and acclaim greeted her words, and it lasted for several minutes.

After decorum was restored Padmé glanced down at the podium's computer stations, then looked up again. "The Chair recognizes the Senator from the Rodia system."

Barriss felt the trepidation flowing out from the gathered legislators as Senator Breena's pod released from its moorings on the wall and floated slowly toward the center of the chamber. Breena long had dissented from the Senate's course in the war, and had been one of Padmé's staunchest opponents from the first moments of Supreme Chancellor Amidala's term. Some of the Senators no doubt wondered if Breena planned to call for a vote of no confidence in the widowed leader who had won the war.

The Rodian's pod stopped in midair, and Breena looked straight at Padmé. "Fellow Senators," Breena said in her heavily accented Basic, "I move for a vote of ratification and endorsement of the Supreme Chancellor's actions."

A collective startled gasp resonated in the quiet chamber, punctuated only by Senator Rylla of Ryloth providing the necessary second to the motion.

Breena stood taller. "I respectfully request that the vote carry by unanimous consent."

In her observation box high above Barriss smiled. The Force was with Padmé today. The Force was with them all.

Padmé lifted her eyes and looked up through the wide round opening in the center of the roof of the small circular room. The sky still was deep blue with the last hues of dusk, and the brightest stars of the constellations had begun to reveal themselves like glittering gemstones on a dark cloth. Over thirty years ago she had gazed up at this same panorama of light and gloom while she had paced slowly to this place for the final remembrance of the Jedi Master who had guided and protected her on her quest to save her planet from its conquerors.

Tonight the roles were reversed – the protector mourned the savior. For over two decades she had kept Anakin's heart and soul safe and true until he finally had fulfilled his destiny, brought balance to the Force, and saved the galaxy from the Sith forever. He had given his life to ensure his triumph. A true Jedi sacrifice, one worthy of his memory.

Qui-Gon Jinn had been right about Anakin from the start all those years ago. That, at least, was something to celebrate, not mourn.

Padmé smiled just a little as she lowered her gaze to the funeral bier in the middle of the room. Atop the neatly stacked wooden beams lay Anakin's motionless body, his hands clasped atop his chest and his closed eyes facing up into the night. A soft burst of wind ruffled his tan Jedi robes and his short gray hair, and for just a moment Padmé thought he somehow would sit up, turn to face her, and go on living.

But she knew he wouldn't. That was just her last, desperate hope rising to the surface of her emotions. Anakin was dead, and nothing could change that.

Padmé slowly scanned the mourners gathered around the circumference of the room. It was a private memorial – no state funeral at the Senate, no formal burial at the Jedi Temple, no royal honors on Naboo. Only those who truly formed the ties and bonds of Anakin's life were here for the sacraments of his death.

Opposite her was the delegation from the Jedi Order. Anakin's three closest friends on the Jedi Council, Barriss Offee, Aayla Secura, and Valin Halcyon, had conveyed the Order's condolences to her a short time ago, and she had asked them to stay for the ceremony, just as the Council's representatives had mourned Qui-Gon three decades ago.

Standing just behind the three Jedi Masters was Mace Windu, his eyes closed and his hands clasped calmly in front of him. With a wistful pang Padmé wondered why she and Mace still were here, when so many others were gone. Anakin, of course, and Obi-Wan and Yoda too. Perhaps her task was to lead the Republic into the future as Supreme Chancellor, to shape the course of the recovery from the Vyhrragian war and the reparation of the injustices that had given Argis' rhetoric so much power in the first place. She was not yet fifty years old, and it seemed the Force expected more of her. Yet Mace was nearly twenty-five years her senior, and she could not fathom what the Force possibly could have left to ask of him.

Then again, she never would have anticipated that the Force could demand that she go on without Anakin to support her. Sometimes it was better not knowing the answers.

Padmé's eyes drifted to her right, where her family and friends stood huddled together, crying. Her parents and sister. Sola's family. Sabé, Alain, and Nalé. Dormé, Rabé, and Saché. Jar Jar Binks and Bail Organa. Threepio, Artoo, and Jaytoo. Compared to Anakin, she had so many. All his life he had been practically alone. First, there had been only Anakin and his mother. Then his apprenticeship to Obi-Wan. Then his marriage to Padmé. True, Anakin had found companionship in a small group of friends on Tatooine, and later among the Jedi, and in a few short years he had grown as close to the Naberries as if they were his own blood and as close to Sabé as if she were his sister. Yet Padmé wondered if some small part of him always had remained that lonely, scared little boy who had flown with her from Tatooine to Coruscant after the Boonta Eve race that had won his freedom. Whether the street kid from a dustball in the Outer Rim ever had felt truly at home on the glittering worlds of the Core.

Padmé looked to her left, to their family. Bryon and Sarré, and baby Nyklas. Danaé. Leia and Han. Luke and Mara. Whatever he might have thought of Coruscant, or the Senate, or the Jedi Temple, she knew Anakin had found joy beyond description with her and their children. That primal sense of belonging he had lost at his mother's death ultimately had blossomed again, and once more he had found something invaluably precious that was undeniably and irreversibly his. Their family – Anakin's family – had been the very best part of his life.

The blue in the sky had shifted to black, and countless more stars sparkled in the nighttime vista. There was no reason to delay any longer – everyone already had paid their last respects to Anakin.

She felt Mara arrive at her side, and her gaze met somber green eyes. Padmé smiled a warm, consoling smile and nodded once.

Mara reached out for a moment and put a hand on Padmé's arm, then nodded back and turned away. She walked to the side of the bier and stopped. For a heavy moment she paused, and her shoulders rose and fell in a long, deep breath. Slowly her right hand reached up, and it seemed to hang in midair.

There was a whisper of sound, and then the glittering silver lightsaber handle held beneath Anakin's hands atop his chest lifted smoothly from the lifeless grasp and floated into Mara's upraised palm. Her fingers closed around her former Master's weapon, and she lowered her hand.

With the distinctive snap-hiss the turquoise blade ignited.

Mara held it there, angled in the air in front of her. The thrum of the shimmering laser sword filled the quiet chamber, and the sound echoed off the walls and up and out the open roof into the night.

Mara stepped forward and plunged the lightsaber into the bier. Instantly flames began to spark and crackle as the searing heat of the energy blade lit the dry wood ablaze. Mara held the laser sword inside the bier for a few more seconds, then stepped back and deactivated the weapon.

The flames began to grow, quickly consuming the fuel and flickering upward toward Anakin's body. Padmé saw Mara's hand move forward slightly, almost as though Mara was about to toss the handle up to Anakin again. Instead Mara's hand shifted back, and she clipped the handle to her belt next to her own.

Padmé stared at the roaring fire as it engulfed Anakin. His spirit was part of the Force now, and his physical form was only a last fleeting manifestation of the man she loved.

She wondered what Anakin would think of her decision to return his body to the Force in this place. He had been born on Tatooine, but after his mother's death he no longer had thought of the desert planet as home. He had lived nearly all of his adult life on Coruscant, in the Jedi Temple or their residence, but the capital had never captured his heart. He had spent numerous days and weeks with her on Naboo, but he cared so fondly for it only because of how much she loved her homeworld. There was no physical place in the galaxy that was truly Anakin's.

So Padmé had chosen Theed – the place where the events that led her to Anakin had been set in motion during her first year as Queen, the place where a few days later she had stood with Anakin to mourn their friend Qui-Gon.

This place mattered to her, so it mattered to Anakin. He would approve of her choice because of what it meant to her. That was the only thing he would have considered.

Padmé's vision blurred from the bright, flickering flames of the funeral pyre and from the tears slipping silently down her cheeks. She blinked away the wetness in her eyes and looked at Anakin once more. His body barely was visible through the conflagration, and she knew that within another few minutes he would be gone.

Someone took her hand, and she looked over to see Luke standing at her side. Her son's blue eyes shined so much like his father's, and he gave her a tender, comforting smile so much like her own. He squeezed her hand once, and waited.

Padmé squeezed Luke's hand in return, and smiled back.

---****

Leia strode quickly along the corridor of the Galactic Senate building. She tugged the cowl of her cloak further down over her face and hunched her shoulders. She'd finished dealing with the few quick matters she'd snuck into the office to resolve, and now she was heading back to her airspeeder to fly home. She didn't want to be seen, and she certainly didn't want to get dragged into any of the politicking now rampant in the hallways. There would be plenty of time for that in the coming days, but not this evening.

She emerged onto the small outdoor landing platform to see a tall man in a dress-whites Navy uniform leaning back against her parked airspeeder with his hands crammed into his pockets.

Leia reached his side in an instant. "Captain."

Han grinned. "Princess."

She looked up into his eyes. "So, you're here to say goodbye?"

"Guess again, sweetheart."

"Really?"

"Really."

"When do you deploy?"

Han pulled his hands from his pockets and planted them at his sides on the airspeeder. "Three days."

Leia smiled broadly. "Come on. Dinner's waiting at home."

He hesitated for just a moment. "All right, Princess. Sure."

"Oh. I'm sorry. You had other plans."

Han flashed her a lopsided grin. "Lando won't even notice. Trust me."

"Good," she replied. "You want to fly?"

He grinned even broader. "I wouldn't mind."

They hopped into the airspeeder. With a smooth burst of the repulsors Han lifted them away from the landing platform, and after a few more seconds they were zooming through the crowded traffic lanes of the capital city-planet on a direct path toward the Skywalker residence.

Leia leaned her head on his shoulder. "What was it you came to tell me?"

Han glanced down at her for a moment. "About the deployment."

"You could've just commed to tell me that."

"But then I wouldn't have gotten to see your beautiful face, sweetheart."

"Nice try, Han." She leaned into him a bit more. "What else were you going to tell me?"

"You sure you're not a Jedi mind-reader too?"

"I'm sure."

He sighed. "I wanted it to be a surprise."

"Too bad."

"I arranged my next assignment after the deployment."

"And?"

"Turns out there's three one-year openings for new instructors at the Academy."

Leia smiled – what a perfect opportunity for him. "How did you find that out?"

Han grinned. "From Fel. He snatched up one before anyone else, the little sneak."

"And who's the third?"

"Wedge."

She laughed. "Does the Academy realize what they've done?"

He laughed too. "I doubt it."

"Which campus? Carida?"

"No."

"Corulag?"

"Nope."

Leia gasped. "Coruscant? Are you serious?"

Han smiled innocently. "Would I lie to you, Princess?"

She wrapped her arms around him. "Thank you!"

"You're welcome."

Han swung the airspeeder around and cut their speed. He tapped a button on the console, and on the side of the towering skyscraper in front of them a pair of docking bay doors began to open. The gap was just barely wide enough to fit them when he flew inside – a few centimeters to spare. If that.

Leia chuckled to herself as Han triggered the doors to close again. _Too easy is no fun._

Once the repulsors cut away and the airspeeder settled down on its landing gear, Leia hopped out and waited for Han to join her. She reached out and took his hand, and led him toward the turbolift.

He stopped, and looked around at the other airspeeders, Luke's X-Wing, and the _Lady Vader_ docked in the spacious chamber. "So… this is where your father died."

She'd forgotten he'd only been in the residence since then, not down here. "Yes."

"It doesn't bother you to be here?"

"Sometimes it does."

"But not right now?"

"No. Not with you here too."

He turned to look at her. "There were things I wanted to ask him about his flying… Things I wouldn't need the Force to learn."

She smiled. "He would have taught you, you know. He respected you, as a pilot and as a man."

Han shrugged. "He had a funny way of showing it sometimes."

Leia laughed. "It was difficult to impress my father, Han. Very difficult. The only other man I saw him treat that way, I married."

He raised his eyebrows. "And you're hoping to make it two for two?"

She stretched up to kiss him. "Han?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't get cocky."

Mara stood next to Luke on the terrace of the Skywalker residence. They both were leaned forward with their elbows braced on the edge of the low wall, and the brisk night wind whipped at their tan Jedi robes. Together they gazed off into the sparkling cityscape.

His voice broke the silence. "What's wrong?"

She glanced over, surprised. "Nothing. Why?"

"You haven't said anything in a while."

"Oh." She realized he was right, and looked away. "Nothing's wrong. I've just been thinking."

"About what?"

"About Anakin. I didn't get to say goodbye."

"I'm sorry, Mara."

She nodded. "I know you're right – I know he forgave me."

"I felt it."

"So did I."

Luke wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Then why the regrets?"

She looked at him again, and shrugged. "For my own selfish reasons. I wanted to be able to say everything to him in person. To tell him. It matters to me, even if it doesn't to him."

He nodded once. "I understand."

Mara leaned into him a bit. "He knew about us, didn't he?"

"Yes."

"Did he ever say anything to you?"

"No. And you?"

"No." Mara took a slow, deep breath and sighed. "He believed in us before we did."

Luke rested his cheek on the top of her head. "It's a bit disconcerting, isn't it?"

She laughed lightly. "I suppose so."

"He would be happy for us, you know."

"Yeah."

He squeezed her to him. "Mara?"

She sighed again. "I… I wanted his blessing. I wanted to hear it from him. Not just know it."

"I'm sorry."

"Thanks," she said. "Well, there's nothing I can do about it. I might as well accept that."

"It will take time," he replied soothingly. "And I will be here with you as long as it takes."

She lifted her face and kissed him gently. "Good."

"We need to tell the others soon, Mara."

"I know. I just… I'm not sure I'm ready yet."

He laughed. "I'm not sure I'm ready either. But we have to tell them before we go to the Council."

She laughed too. "Yes. Very true."

"And we can't elope."

"No. I'd never do that to Padmé. Especially not now."

He smiled. "And we should announce it when we're all together, so no one feels left out."

Mara knew he meant tonight. They couldn't count on too many more days when Bryon and Sarré and Han and Leia and Danaé would all be home. "Luke…"

"It's all right," he said. "Only when you're ready."

She nodded, and leaned into him a little more. She caught herself brushing her fingertips along the slim, jagged scar running diagonally across the back of her left hand. The burn had been much worse than that, but the bacta patches and synthflesh had healed the rest of the severe wound with relative ease. This thin, pale line along her skin had persisted, though, and Mara knew it would be with her forever. It was a message from the Force, a constant reminder of how close she had come to choosing the wrong path.

Considering that Luke would have a cybernetic right hand as long as he lived, the small scar seemed trivial by comparison. Even when he didn't wear a glove, though, no one noticed Luke's hand. Her mark, by contrast, was open and obvious – it was there for all to see. There was a meaning there too, probably, one she might not discern for years to come.

"I'm going inside," Luke said softly.

"Go ahead," she replied. "I won't be long."

"All right." He released her from his embrace and stepped away from the wall. "I won't say anything. Not without you at my side."

"I know."

She didn't turn around, but her perceptions in the Force told her Luke was pacing slowly toward the door that led back inside the residence.

Mara gazed off into the night, and took another deep breath. What was she afraid of? What was she waiting for? Why, after all the pain they'd suffered through, was she now holding back from Luke?

Her answers arrived in a familiar glimmer in the Force. It startled her, and she spun in the direction of the sensation. She gasped, and her hand flew up to her mouth.

There, leaning back against the low wall of the terrace with his arms crossed over his chest, stood Anakin.

He was a shimmering blue figure of light. A phantom image of her mentor, her idol, her father. He looked the same as he had the last time she'd seem him alive only a few days ago.

A million thoughts raced through Mara's mind in that instant, and she couldn't find the words for any of them. There was so much she needed to say, so much she needed to tell him. So much to apologize for, and so much to ask. Yet she couldn't speak. A jolt of panic coursed through her body – she couldn't waste this moment. She trembled as she met his gaze.

Anakin's eyes were filled with pride and love. He smiled warmly at her.

When she smiled back Mara knew she didn't have to say a word. That single look between them washed away her fears and regrets. He had come to her to say goodbye, and give her the peace she needed.

Now her voice worked just fine. "Thank you."

Anakin nodded.

"Will I ever see you again?"

"You won't need to," Anakin said. He tipped his head. "Now go."

Mara glanced over her shoulder to see Luke waving open the door. When she looked back again, Anakin had vanished – and she laughed. One last lesson from her Master.

Her past had been Anakin's. Her future was Luke's. And she was ready to seize it – all of it.

"Hang on a minute," Mara called out to the man who soon would be her husband. "I'll come with you."

Bryon gazed out the window of the nursery into the sparkling nighttime cityscape of Coruscant. Behind him he heard the soft sounds of Sarré tucking Nyklas into the basinet. Their son finally was asleep for the night – finally. Bryon had thought fighting in the war was exhausting. It turned out that being the father of a Force-sensitive infant was far more tiring. Not even close, in fact.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked in a hushed voice.

"Whatever you want is fine with me," Sarré replied quietly.

"You're sure?"

"I am." Her arms closed around his waist as she embraced him from behind.

"All right."

She squeezed him a little. "You don't know what you want, do you?"

He chuckled lightly. "Is it that obvious?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Blast."

She laughed into his back. "What are the advantages of the assignment at Command on Coruscant?"

He smiled at his reflection in the window. "I get to be with you and Nyklas."

"And you won't be in danger."

"That too."

"And the disadvantages?"

"I can make a difference in the field, and the other commanders know it. They want me there."

She squeezed him again. "You don't want to disappoint them."

He sighed. "No. I don't."

"And if you deploy to the theater, you'll earn their respect and admiration."

"Yes."

"So other than risking your life," Sarré asked, "why not do it?"

"Because I don't want to be away from you and our son."

"How many systems haven't surrendered yet?"

Bryon thought about it for a moment. "A few dozen. No more."

"How long will it take? To defeat them, or compel the rest to surrender."

"I don't know."

She swatted him on his abdomen. "Take a guess, idiot."

"At most a couple of months, I suppose."

"So do it."

"Really?"

"Yes. It's not that long."

"You're right, I guess. It's just…" He took a slow, deep breath. "I've missed you so much. I've missed so much of Nyklas' life. I don't want to miss you, or miss him, any more."

"I know, Bryon," she said. "But you've spent your whole career fighting in this war. Don't you want to see it through? Don't you want to finish it?"

He paused, and sighed. "Yes. I do."

"Then finish it. I'll be waiting for you, and so will Nyklas."

Bryon spun within her embrace and wrapped his arms around her. "The Senate will be very busy."

"I know," Sarré said. "But I'll have lots of help."

"True."

"Deploy to theater. Finish this for good, and come home."

He smiled. "I will."

Suddenly he felt fingers tickling his sides. "Stop that," he warned.

She batted her eyelashes innocently. "Stop what?"

"Right," Bryon said, tickling her sides in retaliation. "Like you don't know."

Sarré giggled, and tried unsuccessfully to squirm away. "You started it!"

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did."

"No," he insisted. "I didn't."

She glared up at him. "Yes, you did."

He felt the tickling on his sides again – except both her hands were planted squarely on his chest, ready to shove him playfully. "Sarré?"

She furrowed her brow. "What?"

He held up his hands in front of him – and watched her shiver at the tickling on her sides.

Her eyebrows rose. "You really didn't start it, did you?"

"No."

Together their eyes shot to the basinet, where Nyklas was looking at them with wide eyes and a broad grin on his face. Their son giggled at them, and clapped his tiny hands in self-satisfaction.

Bryon looked at Sarré. "Has he ever done that before?"

She shook her head. "No. Never."

"Oh. I guess we're stuck with the Jedi powers, huh?"

"Yes. I'm pretty sure we are."

Bryon grinned. "So… good luck with that while I'm away."

Sarré grinned back. "Watch yourself, General. It's not too late to rescind your orders."

Padmé stood on the small balcony above their bedroom in the Skywalker residence. Their bedroom – hers and Anakin's. The balcony where they had stood together, gazing off into the wondrous cityscape of Coruscant, for countless nights of their marriage. Where he always had stood with his arms around her and his chin atop her head as he embraced her from behind. The balcony where he had made her smile and laugh, where he had soothed her pain and calmed her anger, where he had supported her in a million amazing ways.

Tonight Padmé stood on the balcony alone. Tonight, and every night for the rest of her life.

Anakin was gone.

"I miss you," she said into the cool, gentle nighttime breeze brushing against her face.

Padmé crossed her arms over her chest and watched the brilliant multicolored lights of the airspeeders zooming and whizzing across the sky in intricate patterns of traffic lanes. The sight was mesmerizing in its detail, and beautiful in its own way. Beautiful for Coruscant, at least.

Beneath her she heard the door to the bedroom swish open, then closed. After a few more seconds came the soft thumps of booted feet climbing the circular staircase to join her.

"Hi, Mom," Danaé said as she stepped out onto the balcony.

"Hi, Danaé," Padmé replied over her shoulder. Her daughter hadn't called out to her – she'd simply sensed Padmé's location in the Force and come to find her. Just like Anakin had done so many times. Padmé wondered if Danaé realized that.

"It's chilly," her daughter said. "You should have a cloak on. Or at least a robe."

"I'm fine, honey," Padmé said, laughing lightly. Her simple tunic wasn't heavy, but it was enough. "Really."

"All right." Danaé didn't sound convinced.

Padmé glanced back briefly at her daughter, but didn't say anything.

"You've made a decision about something," Danaé said into the silence. "I can feel it."

"Yes," Padmé admitted. "Yes, I have."

"Well?"

"When I finish my service as Chancellor, I'm going to return home."

"To Naboo?"

"Yes."

Danaé nodded. "You've lived on Coruscant for a long time."

"Yes, I have." Padmé turned to face her daughter. "I miss the beauty of Naboo. The rivers and waterfalls. The trees and plains. The architecture."

"What about Nyklas?"

Padmé chuckled. "I didn't say I wouldn't visit here now and then."

Danaé smirked. "Now and then?"

"All right, maybe there will be some extended visits," Padmé conceded. "But here… this place…"

"It will never feel like home again. Not without Daddy."

"No. It won't."

"You could find somewhere else. Maybe near Sabé and Alain."

Padmé reached out and put a hand on Danaé's arm. "I appreciate the thought, sweetheart, but it's not what I want. For you and Bryon, and Luke and Leia, Coruscant feels more like home than Naboo. But not for me. And once my last obligations are concluded here, I want to go home."

Danaé pulled her into an embrace. "I understand, Mom."

"Thank you."

Danaé's hands rubbed Padmé's back tenderly. "We'll miss you so much, when you're not here."

"I know," Padmé said. "I'll miss you too. But we'll see each other often."

"Yes. We will." Danaé stepped back, and furrowed her brow. "So, what will you do with the residence?"

Padmé smiled. "I think Bryon and Sarré should have it."

For a moment Danaé gazed off into the night. "Yes," she finally said when she looked back. "That makes sense."

"You think so?"

"I do." Danaé reached out and took Padmé's hand. "I have the Temple. Luke and Mara… will have a family in their own time. And Leia…"

Padmé laughed. "Leia will need a place of her own for her family. She'd never be satisfied with this one. It's too much mine, and your father's. She has too many… idiosyncrasies to ever be content with it."

Danaé laughed too. "Very true."

"Besides, you'll all be welcome here any time. I don't have any doubt that Bryon and Sarré will keep several guest rooms ready. That's just who they are."

"Yes. And you'll always be welcome too, whenever you want to see us."

Padmé squeezed her daughter's hand. "I know."

Danaé released her grasp and turned toward the stairs. "Good night, Mom."

"Good night, Danaé."

When her daughter disappeared down the steps and the bedroom door had opened and shut again, Padmé closed her eyes and leaned into the cool breeze. She'd made these decisions in less than a day, and yet she knew they were the right ones. She was ready to go home. Once her time in office was concluded, she would go back to Naboo. Without Anakin here, Coruscant would feel empty. Even if she stayed, their children would move on to their own families, and homes, and futures. She knew Bryon and Sarré would be delighted to have her live with them in the residence, but Padmé didn't want that. She wanted them to have a home of their own, for their own family. She would visit them often, and that would be enough. It was time to retire to Naboo, to return to her homeworld and all the joys it brought her.

Padmé opened her eyes and looked out over the towering skyscrapers and darting airspeeders once more. Yes, Coruscant was beautiful in its own way. But it wasn't Naboo.

She took a deep breath, and sighed. "I miss you," she said softly into the night. "I don't know how I can go on without you."

The breeze ruffled her hair and chilled her cheeks, and she crossed her arms over her chest again.

"I miss you, Anakin," she said. "I miss you so much."

She shivered a little, and then felt a warm touch of air on her neck and jaw.

Almost like his hand, cupping her face. And then another warm burst of air, almost as if he was kissing her once, gently, on the lips.

"I love you," she whispered.

"And I love you," his voice replied – his real voice. Not a memory, or a spark of her imagination. His real voice.

"I'll be waiting for you to come for me, Ani," she said. "Don't be long."

"When the time is right, angel."

Padmé smiled.

"The Force will be with you," Anakin said. "Always."

THE END

_A brief Epilogue concludes the trilogy…_


	19. Epilogue

**EPILOGUE**

Padmé walked slowly into the sitting room of the small villa in the Lake Country. The late evening glow in the sky lit the forested hills and still waters of the lake with a soft orange hue, and a warm gentle breeze wafted through the open windows. The sight inside the room was far more enchanting, though.

"Gamma's back!"

Padmé stooped over to seize Nyklas into her arms. "Yes, dear, I am."

From behind long strands of dark brown hair his indigo eyes peered into hers. "It's okay," he said. "We're here."

"I know, darling," Padmé said, and she couldn't help but smile at the earnestness in the boy's voice. Nyklas had been the only one present with her seven years ago today when Anakin had sacrificed his life to fulfill the ancient prophecy and bring balance to the Force. To this day she wondered how much the Force-sensitive child remembered about the events surrounding his grandfather's death, but she knew for certain that Nyklas always could sense when she was thinking about Anakin, whether remembering him fondly or missing him terribly. Right now it was the latter.

Nyklas clambered down to the floor and bounded over to his mother's lap.

"Nyx, what did we talk about?" asked Sarré gently.

"Umm…" The boy fidgeted with the hem of his tunic. "Not to run indoors."

"Yes, dear," Sarré said. "Thank you."

With patience like that it was no wonder, Padmé thought, that Sarré was such a highly regarded Ambassador in the Republic's diplomatic service. Supreme Chancellor Dirxon often personally dispatched her for volatile negotiations or delicate mediations. Anyone who could talk Bothans back from the brink of war was quite skilled indeed.

"Elyssé, why don't you give your grandmother a hug too," Bryon suggested. Despite his gentle demeanor at home, General Skywalker was one of the most feared instructors at the Academy. The standards to which he held his students in tactics and strategy exercises were legendary, but those who persevered left with unmatched training and an unwavering loyalty to their mentor.

"Okay," his five-year-old daughter replied. She slid from his lap and padded quickly to Padmé, and hugged her around the legs.

Padmé reached down and brushed the blonde hair away from the girl's face, and gazed warmly into her hazel eyes. Elyssé might be shy now, but like Leia at that age Padmé already could see the outgoing politician's personality beginning to emerge in her granddaughter. "Thank you, sweetheart."

Elyssé smiled, then spun around and practically leaped back into her father's lap.

Padmé turned to the two Jedi Knights sitting together on the long sofa opposite the windows. "And where's your lovely daughter this evening?"

Luke grinned. "She'll be right back."

Mara grinned too. "She's on a very important mission, you see."

Padmé laughed. Six-year-old Harmony was strong in the Force like both her parents, and despite being half the usual age was convinced she was nearly ready to become a Padawan learner. Before Padmé could ask what the "mission" was, a happy bleeping and blooping greeted her.

"I can see that, Jaytoo," Padmé said. Anakin had built and customized the black-and-gold astromech, and now Jaytoo usually flew with Mara in the _Lady Vader_ or her X-Wing while Artoo flew with Luke. In front of his cylindrical torso the droid held up a large tray filled with eight short glasses of liquids of various colors.

Right behind the astromech came the flaxen-haired girl. "Drinks! I got the drinks!"

Padmé settled herself into one of the big plush chairs and watched Harmony deliver each glass to the appropriate person. Finally her granddaughter retrieved the last two glasses from Jaytoo's tray and headed her way.

Harmony carefully passed Padmé both glasses, climbed into her lap, and then took back one drink. "Shuura fruit juice," she said. "Your favorite."

"Thank you, sweetheart," Padmé replied with a smile, and took a sip.

Harmony smiled back, and took a sip of her shuura juice too. Over the rim of the glass her bright eyes looked up at Padmé – the left one a brilliant green like her mother's, the right one a sparkling blue like her father's.

"So," Padmé said to Nyklas, "I've seen Harmony's latest mission. What was yours?"

A short time later Padmé made her way toward the large upstairs bedroom where her younger grandchildren were being put to bed for the night. In theory.

Just as Padmé arrived the wooden door eased open, and Danaé stepped out into the corridor. The Jedi Knight had a very self-satisfied grin on her face.

Padmé smiled. "They're asleep? Really?"

Danaé nodded, and pushed the door back open a bit. "See for yourself."

Padmé peered inside the dark room. Sure enough, all four two-year-olds were sleeping soundly. The Solo twins were cuddled together on one bed in a mass of small limbs and brown hair. Three decades ago Anakin's turn away from darkness had altered the course of fate, and it had meant that when their twins were born Luke was to become a Jedi and Leia was not. Padmé knew that similar tugs and pulls of destiny were at work on her grandchildren – even though neither of their parents was a Jedi, both Jaina and Jacen would be.

On the other bed was a similar pile of two toddlers. Young Aurora's auburn hair was darker than her mother's, and her blue eyes so much like her father's were closed in slumber. Like her older sister, though, there was no doubt she was Luke's and Mara's child. Serving as her pillow, little Orion was the perfect image of his father Bryon at that age – brown hair and brown eyes, broad smile, and like his older brother clearly already on his way to a towering height. Everyone agreed that the thought of three Skywalker men that big was a daunting prospect.

From his spot along the wall between the beds, Artoo whistled softly.

"Thank you, Artoo," Padmé whispered. "We appreciate it."

Padmé leaned back into the hallway. Danaé closed the door silently, muffling the sounds with a wave of her hand.

"You know," Padmé said with a chuckle, "it actually hasn't been as difficult as I expected having all four of them here at the same time."

Danaé smirked – a grin that looked more like Anakin's every day. "Nothing will ever be close to dealing with Leia, Mara, and Sarré pregnant at the same time. Nothing. That almost drove me to the dark side."

Padmé wrapped an arm around her. "Be nice. It wasn't that bad."

"Right. Sure." Danaé shook her head. "You only had to deal with it for a few weeks at a time. Not every single day like I did."

Padmé laughed. "I suppose you're right. Next time you can come hide out on Naboo with me."

Danaé laughed too, and wrapped an arm around Padmé in turn. "Mom, don't even joke about a next time. I couldn't handle it. We couldn't handle it. The _galaxy_ couldn't handle it."

"True," Padmé said, laughing even harder. "Very, very true."

After Danaé headed downstairs to join the others, Padmé strode to the other end of the hallway and knocked softly on the closed door.

"Come in," Leia said.

Padmé stepped inside and shut the door behind her, then walked to the side of the bed. Propped up on a pile of pillows, Leia was sitting with her infant son bundled up in her arms. Han sat next to her on the edge of the bed, his arm around her and his other hand stroking her long hair. For now they both were on leave, she from her second term as Galactic Senator from Naboo and he from his post as the Admiral in command of the Navy's Sixth Fleet. Han actually had convinced Chewbacca to spend a few weeks with his family on Kashyyyk, so tonight it was just the four of them.

The baby boy opened his bright blue eyes and looked up at Padmé. He blinked a few times, then gurgled happily.

"I'm happy to see you too…" Padmé paused when she realized he still lacked a name, three weeks after his birth. She glanced at Leia.

Her daughter nodded. "We decided, finally."

"We were waiting," Han said. "To find out something."

Padmé furrowed her brow, and met his gaze.

"His name is Anakin," Han said into the silence. "Anakin Solo."

"He will be a great Jedi," Leia said. "Like his grandfather."

Padmé reached out and brushed her fingers along the infant's bald head. "It's nice to meet you, Anakin."

The boy cooed, then closed his eyes and turned his face into his mother's chest.

Padmé smiled at Leia and Han. "It's perfect."

Leia smiled back. "Thank you. I know he'll face many expectations because of his family, and his name. But it feels… right. And he'll meet them, and exceed them. I know he will."

"Yes," Padmé said. "I know he will too."

"I just hope he's as lucky in love as his namesake," Han said. "Or as I am."

Padmé squeezed his shoulder. "So do I."

Somewhere in her subconscious an idea burst through, and Padmé barely stifled her chuckle. If there was any justice in the universe the tables would be turned on young Anakin, and he would fall madly in love with a girl who was younger, light-haired, and from Tatooine. Yes, she decided, there was something very appropriate about that.

"If you won't be needing my assistance any further, Mistress Padmé," the protocol droid said, "I'll shut down for the night and recharge."

"That's fine, Threepio," she replied. "Thank you."

Her bedroom door closed, and Padmé paced slowly out onto the small balcony overlooking the lake below. The nighttime sky was clear, and the reflections of the stars sparkled in the smooth waters. The breeze was cool now, and it chilled her a bit as she leaned her elbows on the railing and gazed out into the night.

"Seven years, Ani," she said softly. "Seven years."

"I know, angel," he replied. From behind her his voice was strong and calm.

Padmé didn't turn around. Right now – at least not yet – she didn't want to know if he'd appeared tonight in the ghostly blue image he sometimes formed, or whether he was projecting only his voice. Tonight, on the date of his death, it probably was the former. But he was appearing to her less and less frequently that way lately. She assumed his power to take on the spectral form was waning, but he hadn't said and she hadn't asked. She was afraid to know the truth, because it might mean someday his voice would be gone too.

"It's all right," Anakin said. "I'm here now."

"Took you long enough."

He ignored her. "How are the children?"

"They're well."

"And the grandchildren?"

"Adorable."

"And trouble – lots of trouble."

"Yes," she said, and a little grin crossed her lips. "They _are_ related to you, after all."

He laughed. "The Skywalker-Naberrie line joined with Solo, Jade, and Bellion blood? I pity the Jedi Council in ten or fifteen more years."

Padmé nodded knowingly. "Pity their parents _now_."

"Believe me, I do." Anakin's voice lost its mirth. "There's something you haven't told me."

She took a deep breath, and sighed. "Leia and Han named their baby boy tonight."

"Oh?"

"He's strong in the Force, like his older brother and sister."

"I see," Anakin said. "Then it seems our family's destiny is far from finished."

"Yes," Padmé said, gazing out wistfully over the beauty of the lake. "Five of them will be Jedi one day. Five of eight. More than half."

"And the others have their own special destinies, just like you, and Leia, and Bryon, and Sarré, and Han."

"Yes."

"So what's our little grandson's name, angel?"

"Anakin," she said. "They named him after you."

"Really?"

"Yes, Ani. Really."

He laughed again. "I guess Solo's finally learned not to say no to Leia."

Despite herself, she laughed too – for a moment. "It's quite a burden for him to carry, you know."

"I'm sure he'll carry his legacy well, just as our children have."

Padmé was about to agree when she felt his fingers tuck a loose strand of curls behind her ear.

She gasped.

Anakin chuckled in bemusement, and folded his arms around her waist.

Padmé spun in his embrace, looked up into his face, and kissed him.

His warm lips pressed into hers, and the sensation was more wonderful than she had remembered. She squeezed him tightly, and he squeezed her back and deepened the kiss.

After a long moment Padmé pulled back and gazed up into his eyes. Anakin released her from his embrace and took her hands in his. Seven long years without his touch, and the familiar grip was as gentle and reassuring as ever.

Padmé smiled. "I missed you."

Anakin smiled back. "I missed you too."

She heard the bedroom door open behind him, and somehow she knew it was Luke who would step through in another second. He would be the one to have sensed it first. She didn't have to lean around Anakin's tall frame to confirm it. She simply knew. She met Anakin's gaze again, and nodded.

Padmé didn't look back as she followed Anakin into eternity.


End file.
